Chalk From the Moon: Books 3&4 Stages and Plague
by WrittenAvarice
Summary: On the verge of his final change, Michael must come to terms with the most deadly of all the werewolf transitions. And things only get worse when the ghosts of his past, stop by, uninvited... The third and forth installment... R
1. Potential Regret

"Just rip it out all ready!" Derrick complained. With his knees leant forward, his arms resting above, and his patience slowly eroding away like sand on a beach. He started to motion for me to just let _him_ do it. Where as I held a pair of small, needle-nose pliers, bloody at the tip, and there was no way I was going to let him do it.

"Stop, and let me work it out. This does hurt, you know." I said stopping for a second.

It was my birthday today, and I'd be eighteen. But, instead of a party with many friends, I chose to stay at home while my dad and uncle went to Vegas. And while they were gambling at blackjack tables, and throwing ones at strippers, I was on the front porch of our house. Out in the cool breeze that negated the blazing summer sun. And I was ripping an in-grown toe nail, from the inner walls of _both_ my big toes. And if it wasn't bad enough without any kind of pain reliever, I had Derrick over here, even if he was trying to help, making me nervous.

"Look! Just let me do it, and it'll be over in like, two seconds." He said, putting down his eighth beer of the day. I'd grown accustom to both of Derrick's personalities over the years. There was, "around-my-dad" Derrick, then there was, "not-around-my-dad" Derrick. The latter drank more and hung around the house a lot less. And here, even as I was trying to rid myself of the worse pain I'd experienced in a long time, he was sure to have a beer near by.

"No! Hell, no!"

"Why?"

"Cause, you're gonna fuckin' twist it, and I'm gonna hit you!" I yelled back. "Plus, you've been drinking since noon." I added, as I tried to twist the pliers under and over the nail to split it open. Blood oozed out of the crevice between the skin around my toe, and the nail that dug deep into it. And soon after the pain of it all, started to peak, it happened. A small split in my nail opened up, and to me it was like watching Mosses split the seas for safe travel.

"Alright! I got it! Now you rip it out," I said nervously, "And I'll try not to look."

"Finally." He said, thankfully ripping the pliers from my hand. I winced before he even started. Gritting my teeth and clenching my jaw, I waited. And it wasn't long before I felt the bloodied stainless steel teeth, grasp the split nail. It dug deep as he angled it, much like a door hinge, every time he went up, the other side went down. It was excruciating. And then, he ripped it out.

I grasped the left arm rest of the wicker chair I'd been occupying like it was a nova-Cain release valve. My right hand dug my bitten nails right through my pants and right into the skin above my knee. I didn't care that it hurt, just that it'd hurt somewhere else for a second.

"Alright," He said, showing me the fragment of nail. "I got most of it out, so it should just heal underneath, then grow out like normal."

"Thanks." I said, letting go of the arm rest for a second. My right hand stayed tense for a while as I took a few deep breathes and tried to summon up the courage to continue. But little came.

"How are you Dane's son?" He asked. Laughing at me. I knew we were different. Very different. Hell, we were pretty much exact opposites if you really wanted to get to the root of the situation. But we did bond, like father and son should. We hunted together, stalked prey together, we even teamed up to take down rather large buck a couple of days before his trip. But we were an anomaly of mixed preferences. He hated warm, humid weather. Often saying that we'd have moved years ago if the house hadn't had so much responsibility. With the occasional werewolf passerby, it was nearly impossible to even have a synchronized vacation. And with that, came the inevitable, two on, two off rule. Implying that two of us could take some leave from the house, any time we wanted, but the other two had to stay at the house, and clean, and prep for guests. Guests that came at random times during the day, and sometimes, the night. But I digress.

The warm heated wind coming off the gulf, was perfect for me. One of the very few things I could hang above my old man. I'd often try to get him to go hiking with me and Derrick (when Derrick wasn't working), and he'd get winded long before I. Something I made sure to comment on at every opportunity. We'd share a laugh, and we'd wind up changing, play fight, and then hunt. Which led to two of the only things me and my father held in common.

One was humor. Our little snippets were fun from time to time, but we loved to take advantage of one another's ability to complete a set task. For example, that car wreck I got Wilson and myself into on the way home from Claire's. If my father would have found out about that, we'd never hear the end of it until _he_ forgot. He'd slip in names like, "Crashy", and "Wheely McSmashy." It was very uncommon. And because of the severity of the situation, the jokes took on a new sense of uncalled for. That's where we were similar. After a while, nothing was serious enough not to laugh at.

Two, was blood. I love the smell, he loved the smell. I'd claw through a brick wall to get too it, and I was sure he would as well. It was that substance, that no matter the dry climate, or perspire less conditions, could make my mouth water. And as I grew more and more accustom to it's look and the ever growing need to change just to see it, I found it to slowly start taking over. Not in a bad way, mind you. It just meant, that I wanted to hunt more. And even if it wasn't human blood that seeped through my teeth every night, I was more than content with whatever bloody mess of meat, hair, and bone hung lifeless between my jaws.

Though... It never stopped me from wondering how exciting hunting people would be. The danger! It made my skin crawl with excitement at the mere thought! Most people carried guns now-a-days as well, and that just amplified my want to hunt them. As I grew older, and this was something I'd noticed even as a newly changed werewolf, hiding under the shadow of his long lost father for protection, I'd come across the puzzle piece that was, the human factor. As time went on, people became more dependant on their technology. Guns, stun guns, mace, these things lined the purses and pockets of the people around me, and though their arms race was well above the curve on your average werewolf (I.E. Me), once disarmed, they were mere prey once again. But it would really hurt to get shot!

Without warning, Derrick ripped out the second infected nail, and he ripped a lot of it... right out.

"AAHHH! GOD!!!" I yelled, grabbing my bloody foot, and trying to squeeze the pain away.

Derrick laughed. He knew I wasn't paying attention, and after the pain receded I punched him in the arm, sat back, popped open a bottled bud light, and laughed. "You're a dick, you know that right?"

"Just when you give me opportunity!"

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Hours passed, and just after five, I heard the familiar roar of my best friends truck. An old, beaten, black and rust colored farm truck. I don't know where his dad bought that thing, or even if he did (I'd muse it was stolen from a scrap heap, just to mess with Nick), but it didn't negate the fact that it was here.

It was a death trap. No seat belts, seeing as how the previous owner thought it wise just to cut them out and toss them. No air bags, cause... who the fuck needs those. The wheels haven't ever been rotated, at least since Nick got it for his sixteenth birthday. His dad told us to do it before we drove it, and since neither of us knew what that meant, we hopped in and decided not to worry about it. According to Nick, the sooner this truck bites the dust, the sooner he could get something worth driving around in. Mind you, it was a perfect A to B vehicle. I'm just saying, it was also perfect for riding around in the walmart parking lot in town, and hitting shopping carts left out for the next day... thats all I'm saying.

"Oh, God... Here comes Normie." Derrick said. He'd never approved me bringing a human here. But there was no danger, because he didn't know. He would never find out either. When guests would come by, I'd tell him I had to work that week or weekend. He knew that people came through here every so often, and it wasn't a problem. Mainly because, all we did together now and then, was talk about the crap we did in the past, and how we didn't die. Sometimes though, he'd surprise me, with something to drag behind the truck, or smash, or jump off of, or slide down, or break into, or mess with, or... You get the picture.

Another base I had to clear just to maintain this friendship was trust. I hunted more than ever now, and it started taking over my night life. I'd go weeks without sleep, running off the excess of energy from my nightly changes, and so I'd have to cut whatever we were doing short. But I'd just say I had to clean one of the back rooms before my dad got home, or something along the lines of before my dad gets home. He'd get it quick. Even after eight and a half, years of friendship, he was still afraid of my dad. It was just something, I thought everyone needed to get used too.

But tonight, was my birthday, and I was going to be happy, even if my feet were covered in dried blood, and the pain was still a bit stingy. I sipped my beer, and so did Derrick. We hadn't moved a muscle all day, except for when one of us went to use the bathroom. Wilson and my dad left us three hundred dollars when they took off the morning of their much needed vacation, and Derrick and I took it graciously.

We ordered Chinese food for breakfast, Mexican for lunch, and right now, we were waiting for pizza. Isn't life grand when your body burns calories like gasoline!

"Finally! I thought he'd never get off work!" I said, throwing my empty beer bottle over the porch rails, and into the open garbage can. With a thud and the sound of it smashing against all of the others, came the sound of the porch fridge opening, and me pulling the cap off with my hand.

Strength was one of the last traits when a werewolf grows out of adolescence. And it was one of those things, that after twenty broken, glass cups, I learned to control. It came with the territory, and that's all I really had to say about it. To me, this was just one of those perks that never failed to impress.

Nick's beat up, rusted truck pulled into driveway, on the far side of the house. I could barely hear him laughing as he opened his door, slid out, and slammed it shut. I heard some girl's voice, and it didn't stick with me at first. But as they rounded the corner, right in front of the rose bushes, I saw her.

The last time we met, her father tried to gun me down in his house. I was pretty sure he was going to shoot Nick as well. It wasn't a happy memory. That and the fact that she was here now, especially didn't sit well with Derrick. He'd been told the story by my dad when we got back from Camp hell on earth. He was quick to yell at me for not killing her when I had the chance, and as he looked to me then back to her, I could practically read his mind.

"Well, here comes your greatest mistake."


	2. Reunion

Derrick left quick. He didn't like people. Not teens at least. His target audience were bar hoppers, and people who didn't mind sharing a drink with a stranger. Don't get me wrong though. Derrick didn't have a problem. The problem, was that out of the four wolves in this house ,and out of the three who fought up in northern California, he was the youngest. He killed his first person at thirteen, then after he was changed, his targets were wolves. That's how he met my dad and uncle. They'd been tracking a mutt that was infecting people left and right. And after slaughtering every single one to get to him, they found him in the back alleys of San Francisco, holding Derrick by his bloodied neck. The mutt infected him, they killed the mutt. But for some reason, and it's between the three tenants I live with, they didn't kill him. And about the mystery person, Derrick had killed as a human... that was also up to him to tell. And I wasn't asking anything.

So he had earned to drink to his hearts content. Besides, at the rate we burn off alcohol, we couldn't die from alcohol poisoning if it came from an IV drip. And to spread my opinion, I think he just enjoys the company of people who have something to hide, something to drink for.

"There's the birthday boy!" Emily said, smiling over at me through the spaces under the porch railing. She looked totally different. Her goth gear, totally gone. To the point that if it weren't for her smell, I'd have not noticed at all. Her hair was now blonde with strawberry colored highlights that hung like a shroud of beauty following behind her as she strode towards me. Her tiny button nose wrinkled slightly as she smiled those perfect whites right at me. The only thing that didn't change were those slightly narrow blue eyes.

"What are you doing here?!" I said smiling at her, trying not to remember the gunshot, nor the crushing blow I'd taken for her angry father. My arms felt numb just thinking about it. I couldn't use my left arm at all the following week of that little adventure, and my right now hurt every time it rained. When I used to hear old people say that, I'd always think they were being stupid, but as the phenomenon had engulfed my right arm, I couldn't help but taste the bitter facts of truth.

"I live here now." She said, but as she went on, I was distracted by another figure rounding the corner. I didn't recognize her at all, but the attitude... that was definitely something I'd be able to remember.

Her black hair was cut shoulder length. And as I mused as how mine was the same way, hers had that under curve that distinguished male from female... hair cut wise. Mine was just because I hated people touching my hair, and so I'd go get a real hair cut every couple of months. But until then, I'd just get either Derrick or Wilson to cut away any chance of me having a mullet. The thought of what that'd look like made me shudder.

But back to the girl.

She didn't look like she wanted to be here. And for a second, it looked like she was scoping the place out. It made me uncomfortable, instantly.

"Yeah, man. She's going to be joining us, senior year!" Nick said. "Her and her cousin Angela are staying two houses down from mine!" I could definitely see that Nick was glad to see Emily again. And now that no one was trying to double cross me, nor kill me, I was okay with the two of them seeing each other. Though, it's not like my word is law on the subject.

What I did have a problem with though, was Angela. Those bright, green eyes, unlike my own, were so condescending. And where as she was a beautiful girl, she just came off as secretive and annoying as her cousin did.

She crossed her arms as everyone gathered on the porch, and leant against the railing for the stairs. And as we took our seats for a nice night with a little beer, Angela decided it was better for her to go back to the truck. In my mind, I was all for the distance. That thin black figure, disappearing behind the west wall of the house, was a sight for sore eyes. I didn't think I could take those peering stares of hers, nor her constant silence. She was just another one of those people I just couldn't figure out.

Emily excused herself, rather politely, to go and talk to her cousin while Nick informed me on how his day went, seeing as how mine was a pretty short one.

"And so I'm bagging this old woman's groceries, while she's just nagging and nagging away. 'Cans on the bottom! Boxes dent you know! Don't give me that look!' You know, the whole angry, old lady routine." He sipped his bear, smirking as he delved back into his story. "And so she pays for it, then as she's carrying it to her car, the bag with the cans splits at the bottom and shit goes everywhere! She was hopping up and down like an angry Donkey Kong!" He finished, laughing. I went to take another sip of my beer, but I couldn't cause of my sore sides.

"You didn't even help her?" I asked sobering from my laughter.

"Help her?! I'd have cut the bag myself."

"That's still terrible."

"You remember when we broke into the water supply building?" He asked.

"Yeah, we broke in and turned the water up. That was the same day your dad flooded the bathroom too!" I said laughing.

"Exactly. But remember watching me help him try and find out why the water pressure was so high, and how he made me hold the flashlight."

I nodded.

"It was like that, except with groceries and an old bat. 'You're not doing it right on purpose!'" He said mimicking her again. My sides started hurting again.

He went on, making fun of the old lady with her food all over the hot parking lot, but as he did my attention was grabbed by the shadows of the two arguing cousins. I hadn't even heard them yelling until I saw their shadows. And as I pretended to listen to Nick, laughing when he laughed, I watched the other two. And as I did, another distraction came.

Derrick opened the front door, cordless phone in hand.

"Hey, we got guests coming. So do you want to stay here and help or go with your little friends?"

"You know I have to stay and help." I said frowning. Every time someone comes in, there are supposed to be two tenants there to help unpack, and what not. Plus, it's harder to jump two wolves that just one.

"Yeah, I know." He said smiling. He could be a dick when he wanted too, and when he did, it really hit.

Nick knew the drill. He'd been run off many times, but a jobs a job, and he understood. So we rounded up the two arguing girls, who obviously didn't want us to hear what they were talking about, and they took off. But Angela, even as she sat in the back, stared at me. It was like she'd never seen a person before. It never hit me that she'd known what I was. I didn't expect her too, and I knew Emily didn't tell her... Really, I didn't, but I trusted her to keep her secrets.

As I would mine...


	3. Of Dreams and Scars

I saw my first full blooded werewolf that night. And the child was too young to even know what she was. The couple that were now staying in room seven, never looked so happy. Their new baby daughter, with her pink tinted, blonde hair, and her little yawns seemed to melt them as I showed them to their room. The little girls name was Darlene. And much like a real wolf, her eyes were two different colors. Which when brown and green, make for one pretty baby.

As I layed back in my bed that night, and listened to the crickets play their symphony outside of my window, I couldn't help but wonder whether I'd be as happy as those two. I've never seen two people more in love. And as they thanked me for the room, I wished them good luck with the new baby. Because as I lied in my bed, I could hear her crying a mile away. Through six concrete walls that child wailed, only stopping every now and again. I laughed a little too myself as I turned out my lamp.

And when the light clicked off, I was met face to face with an anomaly.

Standing above me, her legs trapping both mine in between hers, was Angela. Those deep green eyes glowed in the dark like a beacon. Her scowl layed stretched across her flawless mouth, her nose pecked slightly. And her slender body hidden behind soft, black silk that seemed to grow on her like moss.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't think.

She knelt down until we were face to face, her hand grazed my bare chest, and my heart raced. With no words, no reason, she pushed me into my comfortable mattress, and rubbed her skin against mine. The smell of blood seeped through her thin skin, and it drove me wild. My teeth clenched, my heart beat ever so faster, and my lungs couldn't get enough of her smell. My arms felt chained as I rubbed my face across her neck, taking in the scent, and kissing her lightly. Her warm flesh, was radiating beauty, and mine wanted to smother it. Every fiber of my being danced on the edge of ecstacy, and my eyes burned at her sight.

She lowered her head, her hair flowed over my face, I gasped for air. This was too much! My stomach clenched, and she sat back up on top of me. Her hips grinded against me, her star light eyes pierced my soul, and as she moved up against me for a kiss. I ran my hand across her hair, uncovering those beautiful green eyes, and she grabbed my hand. She kissed my palm, and leant into my ear. Her chest, slid across mine, tension built high as she came closer and closer. And then she said it.

"Wake up..."

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My eyes shot open, and I scrambled upright, turning on my lamp, and peered into the uncovered darkness. She was nowhere to be found. My forehead was covered in a cold sweat, my body ached. My heart sank at her absence and I'd never felt more alone. A storm brew in my stomach as I told myself it was just a dream. And anger deluded it when I couldn't believe myself. "God, she was beautiful..." I told myself.

That thin smell of blood, hung in the air as I thought of her. And pushing myself up against the headboard, I sighed.

The thick, rosewood headboard rasped against the wall, and a small 'Chink' sounded afterwards. And something silver fell from it's top. I knew I'd seen it before, but from where? The small silver eagle, hung on a thin silver chain. It's wings outstretched about an inch, and in it's talons were a pentagram, and a lit candle. And it sat right in my lap, staring back at me.

I lifted under it with my knee and it fell into the palm of my hand. And I'd never felt such a painful burn in my life. It seared right through my skin and I tossed it, yelping as I did so. My palm smoked, and bubbled a little, and it burned like hell. The boiled flesh that surrounded the wound closed in on itself, and as it started to heal... it looked more and more, like the lips of an angel.

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I'd been up for hours. Sitting on the couch, my hand wrapped in gauze, thinking over and over about the dream. What it meant, why I'd had it, and everything in between. The kiss on my palm, was written off as coincidence, but the thought still lingered. 'Coincidence seemed to follow witches.' And Angela, was definitely a witch. It was just a question of what kind, and why this was happening.

I flipped through the channels, not even paying attention to what was on. I was just trying to forget. The madness, and the loneliness. This wasn't a road I liked to go down. But it really seemed like I had no choice.

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The next day started normal, about as normal as another day as a werewolf could start. I'd invited John and Bridget in for breakfast that morning. Seeing as how their daughter kept them up all night, and was just now, sleeping it off. I decided why not? Derrick was still sleeping, and over the years, I learned what I could and shouldn't do around Derrick. Number one, was wake him up. Number two, was freeze his boxers. Nick and I felt the full force of his anger that day.

"Thank you, we really needed the break." John said, as I brought their plates over to them. I loaded them up with bacon, sausages, four eggs each, and a biscuit. Wilson mused that I'd never outgrow making breakfast. And I agreed with him. I loved to cook, because it was easy to learn, and something I was actually good at.

I didn't want to over step my boundaries with the couple, but as I listened to the young one sleep, and sat across from the parents... I had to ask.

"Before you too got here, I always thought that having a full blooded child was impossible!"

Bridget laughed, thankfully. "No, it's just very rare to conceive after both parents have changed. Me and John," She said peering over to him, "We were just lucky." I really liked this couple, more than a lot of the strange company we are accustomed too.

"You two don't mind if I bring some friends over, right?" I asked.

They looked confused, but when I mentioned they were human, they relinquished their curiosity. They didn't have a problem with humans, like most werewolves did. And I was especially surprised that, as new parents, they didn't mind. Which was fine by me.

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Nick and Emily drove over later in the afternoon, just as Derrick was conveniently leaving. I really got the feeling that he held a grudge against Emily for getting my dad shot, even though we laughed about it as we told the story. I still remember the looks on Wilson and Derricks faces as we couldn't stop laughing, especially when my dad's hand was gauzed up like mitten, and I was wearing a makeshift cast. I laughed a little.

The second Nick was in the driveway, a loud boom erupted, scaring me. And as he pulled around, I saw the problem and almost fell over laughing. His back tire had blown out! He wasn't happy about it, but at least he had a spare tire in the back. Emily laughed along with me.

As the two came up the stairs, Nick looking a little less enthused than he was when he was pulling in the driveway, I noticed the two holding hands. Internally mentioning I'd called it, I decided to voice my opinion.

"You too look like Hansel and Gretel coming up them stairs!" I yelled.

Nick called me an ass, and Emily flipped me off. I smiled back. "Need help with your tire?" I asked, pointing at his beater truck.

"Yeah. And I don't have a jack on me, can I borrow your dads?" He asked. Probably thankful that he didn't have to ask my dad this time. Last time, even though my dad just grunted that he could, he was still quick to leave his sight. And I knew my dad was big, and strong, and frightening, but there's a limit, and I really wished everyone would get over it.

"Yep. It's right were you left it last time." I said, pointing him around back to the tool house. It was essentially, the Martha Stewart version of a tool shack, that my dad had built two years after my destructive nature was unleashed on the back rooms. He'd always said I was high maintenance, and I guess he was quite right the day he built that thing. A small lumber yard was connected behind it, sheltered by a tightly pulled, blue tarp that protected it from rain. It was a wood workers fantasy.

As Nick left us alone, I dug in my pocket, and tossed Emily that necklace I found last night. I'd wrapped it in the bloody gauze that once sheltered my palm from everything beyond it.

"What's this... Where'd you get this?" She said, her tone changing from wonder to anger.

"I found it last night, after a freaky dream about your cousin, Angela." I replied, toned as seriously as possible.

Emily didn't respond before Nick came back, troubled by the weight of my dads jack. I laughed and waved as I yelled, "Come on, it's not that heavy!"

Nick was big, but that was a very big jack, and it could easily jack up the backside of an eighteen wheeler. That's why my dad bought it. To him, it was all or nothing.

"You say that now..." He said, panting as he dragged that monster of a jack, "Let's see how you react when you blow a tire!"

Surprisingly, he dragged it all the way to his truck, and started jacking up the back end. The distance was good enough to keep him out of the conversation that Emily was so eager to pick back up on, and it was easy to keep an eye on the distance from here to there.

"So do you want to explain what happened in this 'dream' of yours?"

To be honest, I really did...


	4. Unnatural Response

I filled her in on the dream, in great detail, and as soon as she went to slap me, I called over to Nick, pretending to give him advice. It was hard to relive that dream without expressing it as if I were there. There was just too much emotion keeping me from shortening it up for her. Besides, I didn't want to feel that sting that I'd felt my entire childhood. So you can understand why I did it.

"You're a dick, you know that right?" She asked me. I smiled, remembering that I'd said the exact same thing to Derrick the night before.

"Look, I didn't want the dream, and if anything, it was extremely depressing. But the cold hard truth is, I think your cousin is either trying to mess with me, or drive me crazy." She gave me a look telling me she knew what I was getting at. "Cause I know you witches."

"What's that supposed to mean!?" She yelled.

"Oh, come on! You people are about as devious as the gulf is damp!" I yelled back, garnering Nick's sweat covered attention.

"Hey, Don't make me come up there!" He yelled at us. That sarcasm of his, breaking the tension between his friend and his girl.

"You're lucky you're Nick's friend." She said.

"No, You're lucky you're Nick's girlfriend." I replied, walking off the porch away from the witch and her cousin's necklace.

******************************************************************************

"I want to talk to her." I said, bringing up that old conversation we'd had earlier. All three of us sat in front of the big screen TV, taking turns on Devil May Cry for the PS2.

"Who?" Nick said, obviously having trouble with the final boss. He was on his last life and the giant mess of previous bosses was almost finally down.

"Angela." I said. He paused the game.

"You think you have a shot with her?" He asked a little too honestly.

"You two do remember I'm sitting behind you... right?" Emily asked, arms crossed, and awaiting her turn. I'd never seen a girl who liked games as much as Emily, and it was one of the few traits that didn't bother me about her.

"Yes," I replied, "That's why I asked you." As I said it, my imagination went haywire. Flashes of that dream flooded my brain like a back draft. I knew something about this was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what.

"Call me later, and I'll tell you whether or not she even wants to see you."

"Why wouldn't she?" Nick asked. As Emily and I exchanged looks behind him, we both knew the less he knew, the better. And where as I couldn't think of a lie, Emily decided it was a good idea to reply, "She hates white people."

We all shared a good laugh.

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That night, I called over to Emily's, her aunt said that her and Nick were out that night. When I asked to talk to Angela, she said that she was asleep, then just hung up. I didn't like witches. Not at all. They were secretive, devious, and always made you work for every bit of help you asked for. And sometimes, not even giving you any at all. They were a mess of a breed.

Emily was alright though. She was a little over-protective of her cousin, but look who's having dreams of getting in her pants! I couldn't blame her for long, and after a while I couldn't blame anyone but myself for what happened. Though, I tried to deny it over the past couple of days, I knew it was inevitable that I'd come to this point in my life. The leading cause in werewolf deaths were because of their vicious sex drive.

Mine was mild now. Just a dream and a fantasy every now and then, but I knew it'd get worse. I'd heard stories of the crippling agony it could bring if not satisfied, and the horrible decision making it could induce. And the younger you were when your first change took place, the worse it was going to be when it finally happened. Thankfully, it happens after eighteen, not sixteen like humans. Those extra two years of peace... were definitely worth it.

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Two months went by, and before I knew it, I was back in school. My last year, at that. But along with it, came pressure. What college I'd go too, prom, girls, all that crap they shove down your throat in every high school sitcom couldn't compare to what I was going through.

I hadn't seen Angela since that first day we me, yet every night I lay down my head, she was there. She haunted my dreams with her beauty. Her voice could be heard in empty halls when I was alone, even though I'd never heard her speak. Her scent was indescribably evident wherever I went, even if no one else could sense it.

My father and the other two, now looked at me totally different. That instinct to mate and procreate was driving me insane, to the point where my mornings felt like the end of existence. Her absence every morning destroyed my soul and put me in a bad mood instantly. And to meet everyone in the morning for breakfast, and see their faces, their looks, bothered me without hinder. They looked at me the same way I'd look at a sick dog in a pet store, as if the future was a bleak monster waiting to swallow me whole.

And even if the drive that was now dominating my DNA told me not too, I made it clear that Nick shouldn't bring Emily over any more. I didn't want to risk it. Hell, if there was a female who was occupying a room in the back, I'd make it a note not to even meet her. Even though their scents lingered in the house. My toes curled every time I came across ones scent. This monster inside, was killing me. And no matter how much I pleaded, the dreams kept on coming, the smells kept getting sharper, and the madness kept growing.

My dad had confronted me about school, and whether or not I should go, I really shouldn't. I'd rather home school the first couple of months, at least until this beast died away. But his advice... really didn't help anything. I don't even want to repeat what he said, but all day that day, it rang in my head. "You'll never beat it. You might as well hurry and find someone, before you do something stupid."

At one point, I had to drag myself into the basement, and lock myself in to keep myself from going out and hunting her down. Those dreams had driven me mad, and each night they got longer and more detailed. Lust infected my veins, and violence followed. This self-destructive instinct was infuriating, and the worst part was, that I'd have to start this over, every morning, until I either found my mate, or killed myself in the process.

******************************************************************************

My first day at school was horrifying. Where as it was easy for me to hide my pain, it wasn't easy to keep it at bay for seven hours. Every class was a nightmare of sex filled day dreams and a fight to keep myself from clawing into my leg as I suppressed everything.

That first class, History, had a teacher named Mrs. Dawson. I hadn't heard a single word she said that first day. All I could think about, was bending her over her desk, or pushing her up against the black board as she moaned in pleasure. I thought my teeth would crack under the pressure of my clenched jaw. And it didn't help that Nick sat right next to me to remind me how hot she was every time she turned around!

The second, Trigonometry, was even worse. Mainly because I had it with Angela. And my first thought as she passed me to take her seat was, 'Oh God. ' Her scent was just as I'd imagined. I could smell the blood right through her thin skin, or at least that's what I thought. I saw she always wore long sleeved shirts, and in Louisiana, even during the summer, was odd. They were thin and skin tight, and how I wanted to rip it right off of her. DAMMIT! I bit my tongue as the thought crept into my mind.

I looked over to her, and for some reason she was smiling. I didn't care why, but I really had to look away. I thought of how I'd pull her close and kiss her for eternity if I had the chance. I also thought of how I'd like to tie her to my bed and... DAMMIT!!!

I barely made it through second period. Third was gym. And when you're surrounded by men, that sex drive turns into a violent streak. As I changed in the locker room, I wanted to kill someone for their scent! Every little detail about how someone looked at me, moved, what they'd said, even if it had nothing to do with me, irked me into insanity. But at least, it was better than being around Angela.

Fourth period was Home Economics... You can imagine the stress. Thankfully, the second half of this class that started third term, was World Economics. Surprisingly though, I was able to control my sex drive with one simple solution, I loved cooking. The smell of bread baking, a stew simmering, hell, hamburger helper was my sex here! And where as it didn't fully stop my drive, it did hinder it to a crawl! For that, I was thankful.

Fifth and Sixth period were by far the easiest though. Biology, which was a breeze for me, and Library Assistant. Because of how many times Nick and I spent recess in the library, playing on the computers or enjoying a card game, we both got selected to share sixth period, putting up books, and helping out Mrs. Elsie, the kindest woman on earth! A lot of the kids in the school didn't really like to read, which was perfect for Nick and I. We spent that first day though, going through a giant stack of books, placing stickers on the spine for placement. We enjoyed the easy work, and I enjoyed the company of my best friend. Because at the end of that day, I really needed it.

Seventh period, was my strange class. Because Angela, and I shared a meager class on Literature and the changes in our generations literary preferences. Mr. Evangilista, was our teacher. He was a good man, with a fantastic head on his shoulders. He was able to see exactly what the artist we'd been presented with, wanted us to see. He was sharp, and witty. Plus he had a small part in a B-movie called blood gnomes. And if you rent it, and watch the credits, look for Evangilista! He plays some nerd and gets only one horrible line in the entire movie. But to me, it was really cool.

What wasn't cool, was how Angela, capitalized on my pain, and sat right in front of me. With the fans blowing on us constantly in the bright room, my pain easily tripled, and my soul, was crippled. This was hell, and thankfully, the teacher ended the class early that day since we really weren't going to be doing anything that day.

But right before he let us go, Angela slipped me a note. I didn't read it right away, mainly because I feared what it might have said. Knowing her cousin, it was probably something that'd just put me in a bad mood.

*****************************************************************************

That night, I did my laundry... miserably. Tired and ache ridden from struggling against myself all day, I just threw everything in the washer without separating them, and made sure I wasn't throwing anything important away. That's when I remembered the note. And after digging in my Khakis deep pockets, I finally found it.

I poured the detergent on my clothes, closed the top, twisted the knob to heavy, and pushed the on button. The machine shook because of the uneven load, but I didn't car. I just sat down in front of it, kicked my feet out in front of me, and enjoyed the free back massage.

The folded up note that had lined my pocket since I got home, was in my hands and I couldn't open it. Last time I opened a note it almost got me killed. And now... I had another.

Deciding against the safety of ignorance, I opened it, read it, then slammed the back of my head against the washer machine. The note fell from my hand as I pulled my knees in close to me. My hormones were out of control, my mind felt bent and contorted. Every synapse in my brain was firing off commands to go get her and every muscle in my body felt bored through and chained to the floor.

As I closed my eyes, I went over the note one last time. This is what it said:

You should really keep your thoughts to yourself when you sit behind a mind reader, wolf man. No matter how Delicious they are! :)

P.S. If you want me, Come get me!

Angela Fairmont

The seductive tone of her words... killed.


	5. Confrontation

I sat in my cold, dark room. Upright, against my headboard, afraid. Afraid of sleep. Afraid of what it was slowly turning me into. Afraid of the chaos that twisted, and churned in my stomach as I lay down each night. Afraid, of myself. All my lust and rage, were quickly forming pacts together, plotting against my sanity, and against my control. And as it slowly eroded away my conscious thoughts, I started to see these things, that they wanted me to see. I started to see exactly what they'd been trying to tell me from the beginning.

My fantasies, and my dreams, were only ten percent, about other women that I knew. The other ninety, was about her. That black haired beauty, who's eyes we both shared. That wicked attire she always wore, even if it got her into constant trouble. That hate that I could see lining her features, it all drove me crazy. Everything about her was either dangerous, or fixated in a furious curiosity. I both loathed her, and loved her. And we both knew this.

She knew what I knew. It was simple, and destructive. She could sense my every emotion, and read my every thought as if they were placed on a canvas for her. And still, she tempted me. She knew what this was growing inside of me, and how it killed me every second, and her actions only made it worse. I loathed her... but my body. My body, my heart, even my unconscious mind, loved her. I wanted her close. I wanted her in my arms, every night for the rest of my life. And as I daydreamed, my legs hanging over my mattress, I knew it still wouldn't be enough.

'This must be what hell's like.' I mused. The words crawled across my cold lips, but no sound came out. I was exhausted.

'We just need some sleep...'

'_We need her, and you know it.'_ My instinct responded, it's logic was stronger than my own. And it was right. I did need her. I seemed not able to breathe without her.

'Tomorrow.'

******************************************************************************

I stared at my palm, the burned lips in the center were long gone, and all that remained was a thin outline of the silver burn. Still to this day, I couldn't figure out how that necklace got in there. But why it burned me was self-evident. I was definitely allergic to silver. And it was definitely one of those myths that actually turned out to be true. Though, in my defense, I had a hard time telling silver metals apart from all the others!

"Michael!" Nick said, knocking me out of my day dream.

I looked up, surprised and a little disoriented. "What?"

"You haven't said two things since you got here, man! Are you alright?" He asked. His honesty was something that killed me every time I had to lie to him. It was the one thing I hated about being what I was. And it was the one thing I know he hated as well.

"No, I'm just tired." My lie was convincing only too me. "I forgot to clean out that couples' room from last week, and I didn't get to sleep til three in the morning." That one was a little better.

"Your dad's really been running you ragged, huh?"

"You have no idea. What about you, you haven't been coming over lately." I asked him, changing the subject to something a little less dangerous.

"It's Emily."

"Is it bad?"

"Far from it. She wants us to move in together after school. Which means that I need to get a better job. And trust me," He said, sliding the last of the returned library books onto it's shelf, "It's definitely harder than it sounds."

I thought of Derrick's job on the oil rigs off out in the gulf, but shot the idea down because of the simple fact that Derrick didn't like Nick. I really didn't know what it was, nor cared... all I wanted was her.

"So what's up with Angela?" The words rolled off his lips like an atomic bomb. How did he know?

I looked over at him, trying to figure it out, and came up with one answer, Emily.

"Emily told you?" I asked.

"Didn't have too. The way you glance over at her every couple of minutes was enough... But yeah, she told me."

That bitch! Was it so hard to just let me suppress this! Now the whole world pretty much knew about my sexual asphyxiation regarding that damn girl! And it really was like being choked out!

"Now don't go blaming her." He said, "I asked whether or not she would be alright if I tried to get you two together."

"Thanks, but I don't think that's going to happen." I said, declining his offer.

"Why is that?" He asked, unaware of the things we shared behind his and Emily's back.

"Just trust me."

******************************************************************************

It was day two, and the last class of the day for me. As usual, I was the first one in the class, just trying to get a few seconds of relief from my growing pain, and as usual, she was the second one to show. Sitting right in front of me, smiling as she did so, obviously reading my flattering thoughts, and grabbing the note I'd tossed on her desk as I came in.

On it was my response. 'It'd be too hard to stop if I did.'

Class hadn't even started before she slid it back, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I constantly clenched and released my toes as I read, stress built, and whether it was anger or lust that fueled after her words, I'll never know.

'Who says you have to stop? You've got to be the strangest being I'd ever met.'

'Thanks a lot, that definitely helps.' I wrote quickly, seeing the teacher walk over to his podium and go over his class notes before the bell. I slid it around her left and she grabbed my hand softly, snatching the note to my curling fingers. Her skin was soft and smooth. My teeth clenched and I stuffed back a day dream as hard as I could.

She held back something, as I saw her jitter a little in her chair. I prayed it wasn't a scoff. Hell, my body would've taken it worse than I would...

But, as fate would have it, she responded. And as I grabbed the note, she held it in place, just for a second, then released.

I unfolded the thee punch paper until it was, once again, flat. And her words, made me smile.

'Meet me after school, and we'll talk.'

******************************************************************************

"So what's it like, going through that sort of thing?" She asked, walking along side of me. The levee hid us from the town below, and up here, I was free to say whatever I wanted, so when she asked what it was like... I answered.

"Have you ever been so afraid of how your body will react, that you try your damnedest to stay awake? And far away from the dreams?" I said, hurting myself a little by the severity of my own words.

"Nope, but I bet it sucks."

"Yeah," I said laughing a little, "You could say that." The cool breeze washing over the river rocks and up to meet us, blew her scent right in to me. My heart pressed hard against my chest,and I could barely take in the entire breath.

I knew she felt what I felt, she was nosy like that. So when she looked over at me smiling, I didn't feel that bad. "So where are we going?" I asked, keeping her from saying what I thought she would.

"My mom's house, and don't change the subject before I can ask. That's rude." Her perfect smile glinted, those green eyes peered deep into my soul, and I could feel them digging further. "Is it like this with every girl you meet?"

"Oddly enough, no." I said, as another breeze blew her into me. That faint smell of blood lined her skin. I loved it, and again, she knew.

"Your different from the others." I began. "Your scent.. it's something I cant get enough of."

"That's whats so attractive about me?" She said stopping in her tracks. Her awestruck look, seemed to put me on the spot, and I couldn't tell whether or not I should apologize. "I guess bad habits aren't always a bad thing." She said under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."


	6. Fix

"So have you ever killed anyone?" She asked. Her curiosity was pretty much the only thing that kept this conversation, a conversation.

"No. Though, I'm pretty sure Emily told you about what happened back at the camp a few years ago."

"Yeah. She said you left a pretty noticeable bruise on her."

Guilt plagued my system. "I never did apologize." I said, like I'd forgotten to pick something up from the store. But, I guess the attempted murder on me, and the fact that I hadn't killed her back in that shack, was enough for me to not feel so bad.

"Don't worry, she isn't angry at you any more." Angela reassured me. "Not since her dad died last year."

I stopped dead. "He died?"

"Yeah!" She said, as if this was something I was supposed to know. "That's why she lives down here."

Huh...

******************************************************************************

"My house is just down here." She said, heading to the other side of the levee. She stopped when I grabbed her arm. A jolt of lust ran through me, and it conjured a ton of images that I really didn't want her seeing.

"Wait." I said, trying to flood them out.

She waited until I was calm again, and I asked her something that's been on my mind ever since we met.

"That day Emily brought you over ..." I couldn't get the words right. But still, I forged through, hoping it would make sense to her. "That look you kept giving me..."

She frowned a little.

"Emily was just trying to get us together, and I wasn't about to start dating some nancy boy."

"Nancy boy?" I asked.

"Oh no! No, it was how you were dressed and how you acted. It was before I found out what you were." She said, redeeming herself... as if she had too.

I laughed a little at how quick she was to correct herself. Then the thought arose. "What about now?" I asked.

She didn't say anything for a few seconds. Though, she did stare up at me. Those perfect eyes, watching, instead of words, she just walked up to me, kissed me on the lips, and pulled away slowly. Her soft lips, were just as I'd imagined. Heaven in human form.

I was left breathless as she stared into my eyes. She felt the lust, the passion burning inside, and she smiled as I fought to control it.

"Come on, my mom can probably make you something to help even you out."

******************************************************************************

Their house was beautiful. Bright blue walls that ran along the inside of their large living room and intertwined into a red striped pattern in the kitchen. Their soft carpet looked new and almost unused. And as Angela motioned for me to take off my shoes, and I did so without question. The sounds of an abandoned television fought against the sounds of pots and pans clanking together. The smell of hamburger helper (Stroganov) hung in the air like smoke from a delicious fire.

"Welcome home Hun!" Angela's mom greeted from behind the kitchen island. Obviously hunting down the top for the pot on the stove top. I could tell just by the smell that it was time to simmer.

"Hi, mom! I brought home that boy I told you about." She replied, gaining her mothers attention.

"Oh, so you're Michael!" She said smiling, her hand extended. I shook it, and nodded. "Angela's told me so much about you."

Oh, god I hope not!

"Now don't say that, I've helped werewolves before," She said nonchalantly, surprising me thoroughly. "And I've always been glad to do it."

Now Angela's mom, was pretty tall, almost my height, and I now stood at six feet, two inches. She shared that long dark hair, except hers hung down to her waist, as if she'd never cut it before. She wore a pair of dungaree's that accented her brown jacket and white shirt.

As she made her way around the kitchen, she pulled out a small jar, shaped like a vial, and handed it to me. Ground up inside, was something light blue, and rotting.

"What's this?" I asked, rolling it around in my palm, trying to get a better look at it. It looked like light blue, plant-like mush.

"Wolfsbane." She said. "Just burn a little in your room before bed. That should work wonders for you!" She said.

"I don't mean to cut you off, but your hamburger is burning a little." I said, when given the chance.

She thanked me as she ran over too it, turning down the heat and turning back around. "I'll never understand how your kind can take all the scents around you and sort them out like that." She said in wonderment. "When I was pregnant with Angela, I couldn't tell _what_ I was smelling!" She said laughing.

Angela grabbed my arm, and pulled me away from Mrs. Fairbanks. Obviously a little embarrassed by what her mom had said.

"Later Michael!" She yelled as Angela guided me to the back.

"Later, nice to meet you."


	7. Temptation

*^This next chapter in the Stages story, is extremely graphic. Readers discretion is advised. ^*

******************************************************************************

"What smells like blood?" I asked as Angel closed the door behind her.

"Uhh, nothing." She dug around in her bed side, night stand. Fumbling around in her drawer an entire minute, she came up empty handed.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, not really knowing what else to say. I just stood there, leaning against her door, fiddling with the small jar of wolfsbane.

"Looking for a lighter." She said, as she tracked her lost item down. I tried to help, sniffing the air for the residual butane residue that sometimes stained the sides of the metal casing, but to no avail. The scent of blood was getting stronger as she dug through the mess of clothes on the ground around her. She really didn't like a clean room. Even though most of the clothes on the floor were clean, I still considered it dirty. It was on the floor!

"Ah, Got it!" She said, snatching a bright red lighter from under her bed. I looked at where she had grabbed the lighter, and noticed a small red stained rag underneath her bed. It fell from inside the mattress as she sat down.

"Gimme' the jar," she said, "So we can see if this works."

I absently tossed it too her, and she caught it. But I couldn't stop staring at the rag. I knew it was blood, and slowly, I started putting two and two together, and what I came up with, was that I was in love with a cutter.

My imagination went haywire. Thoughts of her bleeding arms wrapped around me as we lye intertwined on her bed coursed through my head. I couldn't stop them this time. I imagined her rubbing her blood over my mouth as I tasted it. I imagined kissing her with my bloody tongue, the thick red liquid sticking us together, ecstacy caressing our souls.

I closed my eyes and clenched my fist and jaws together as the thoughts came harder, and faster. By now, Angela had already caught wind of them, and as I opened my eyes, I saw her stares.

I gripped my chest, and slid down to the ground. My heart was beating too fast, and that look of shock on her face hadn't helped. Yet, in my mind, all I could see were the two of us rolling around in the red stained sheets of her once perfect white bed.

My breathing became restricted, and ants crawled through my skin. I tried to shut it out, but it wasn't working, and just when I thought the world was about to end, I felt her touch.

It was more like a grab.

She pulled me from the door, pushed me onto my back, and pinned my arms down. Her eyes were wide, and exhilarated. She felt what I felt.

She bent over fast and kissed me hard against the floor. Her hands squeezed hard against mine as she tried to pull herself away from me, but something in her kept her from escape. Her soft hands were soft shackles keeping me from control.

She moaned as she pressed herself into me. My stomach clenched. I freed my hands from her and pulled her closer by her sides. She ran her hands through my hair, her tongue circling mine. And at the hight of my ecstacy, she pulled away.

She grabbed her left arm, her scars had opened up, and they smelt more delectable than anything I'd ever smelt before. I could taste it through the air.

Seeing how I reacted to it, she pulled up her sleeves, six small slices lined her forearm, and were I should have felt some kind of sadness, I only felt more lust. She knew I loved the sight, the smell, the taste. And so she raised her arm too her mouth and tasted it herself. I couldn't take it.

I pulled her down onto me, kissing her as hard as I could, as licking the blood from her tongue. My hands ran through her shirt, sliding against her sides, and running up her back. I pulled her braw strap apart without thought and she slid her bleeding arm against the side of my face. Her hair hung over my nose, adding fuel to my burning desire, and I pushed her away.

She pulled her shirt off, and I did the same. She dug her fingernails into my chest, slicing right into my bloods prison. I began to bleed instantly, and she lowered herself into the wound. Licking it, then kissing me.

The only noises that haunted the room were the small moans of my mate, and the slick smack of two bloody beings trying to become one. And that's all that I ever wanted.

******************************************************************************

I hadn't even noticed her get up until I heard her turn on the sink in her bathroom. I looked over as she washed blood off her arms, breasts, and her mouth. And every couple of seconds, she would stare over at me, reminiscent, and smile. "This does not reach my cousin." She said, running water over her hair, just in case.

"Deal." I said, standing up from the floor. As I looked at the spot where we'd once been, I wondered. 'For all the blood that covered us now, there were barely any spots on the floor.' Probably because I'd been on my back the whole time. A grin ran along my face as I recalled the past half hour.

Walking over to Angela, I planted a kiss on her lips, and began to wash away some blood from above my right eye. "So why do you do it?" I asked, referring to the bloody rag under her bed.

She looked up at me, and I didn't blame her. After what had just happened, I was making small talk. But the simple truth was, my instincts were no longer running me ragged. It didn't change the way I felt about her, it just flipped my mood. Much like a light switch. Still she answered.

"Some witchcraft takes sacrifice. Like mine." She explained. "Like werewolves need either the moon to be full, or their emotions to be high to change, I need blood to create spells and practice them."

Either way, it didn't bother me. In fact, I kind of saw it as a turn on. Not to sound sick or anything. But then again... I was a hunting, stalking, killing machine. And for me, a little blood, went a long way.

She'd gotten all the blood off of herself, and started to get dressed. I on the other hand, stood in front of her bathroom mirror, still covered in dried red, half-naked with my pants undone. She laughed at me, making me feel a little awkward. "What?" I asked.

"You missed a spot." She said.

"Missed a spot..., I'm covered in it!" I said laughing back at her, and tossing my bloody rag her way.

There was a knock at her door, and my heart skipped a beat. I rushed to scrape the dried blood from my skin, and at the same time, I tried my hardest to button up my pants and stay quiet about it.

Angela, without missing a beat, grabbed my shirt, threw it at me, and pushed me further into the bathroom so she could shut the door. "Coming." She said.

I heard her open up the door, and heard Emily, asking what was going on in here. She obviously heard me talking.

"Where's Michael." She asked.

"He's in the bathroom. Why?" Angela replied, something I'd been wondering myself.

"Nick says that his dad has been trying to find him ever since school let out." She said, loudly I might add. As if she wanted me to hurry up and get out.

I couldn't agree more, having gotten most of the blood off my torso. I decided that my red 'Fender' shirt would hide the rest of it. As for the cut on my chest, I padded it with toilet paper and ran water around the edges of the paper to help it stick.

"Kay, I'll tell him when he gets out." Angela said, getting rid of her cousin, and shutting the door when she left.

"Did you get that?" She asked me.

"Yup."


	8. Stability

"Where the Hell were you?!" My dad yelled as I walked in. He was definitely angry. "I've been trying for hours to track you down!"

"Look, dad, I'm sorry." I said, shuffling my back pack onto my other shoulder. "But I went over to Emily and Angela's."

"The witches house?" He asked, slightly amused. "What could you possibly have to do there..." He trailed off. His blue eyes narrowing as he peered into my own. "_What did you do?_" he asked. I'd never heard his voice so serious. And frankly, that fear that everyone seemed to have of my dad, was starting to climb up my spine like an old forgotten ghost.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to shove the fear back down where it belonged. This was my father, and I wasn't going to fear him any more than I did the dirt on my shoes. There was no room for fear in this house, nor in this race.

"Did you attack one of them?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"Your eyes say differently." He said, crossing his arms.

Memories of that after noon flooded my thoughts. The blood... our blood.

Without a single word, I was off to go upstairs. I raced past Derrick who'd probably heard my dad yelling. He was silent now. I pushed open the bathroom door, and rushed myself in front of the mirror. What I saw wasn't fair. It wasn't true! And as much as I hated it, my eyes had become liars. Because glowing around the thick green irises, was a light, thin, cobalt ring.

I didn't care that what I'd done with Angela had marked me a killer, but what I did care about was that I'd never be seen the same way again.

As the blue pulsed in my eyes, my anger grew. This wasn't fair, this wasn't fair, this wasn't right...

******************************************************************************

I went to bed that night, without eating dinner. Instead, I stayed up talking to Angela over the phone in my room. I told her about what happened between me and my dad. Our argument really did little to effect our relationship, and for that I was glad. I mean, I'd been yelled at before, but the way he started... was just frightening.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure blue would better suit your black hair anyway!" She said over the phone, trying to cheer me up. Really, I was just glad to hear her voice. I thought of her fondly as she went on about why I shouldn't worry about it, and start wondering when we could have a repeat of that afternoon.

It wouldn't be enough to say that my heart felt like it was going to explode. But that's exactly how it felt. I knew that what we did, changed things between us, and I was glad to see it was all for the better. I'd have thought the whole blood fetish thing would have freaked her out a little.

"Come on." She said, reading my thoughts over the phone. I'd wondered if it sounded like I was talking regular of if she could tell the difference. But I'd forget to ask either way. "That was the best time I'd had in my entire life."

"Glad to hear it."

******************************************************************************

We made it into a game, Angela and I. And though my dad knew something was going on, he had no clue what. This became our obsession. Like an after school activity, except it was very high up there on the weird list.

No one suspected a thing. Not her mom, not Emily, and not even Nick knew. We didn't want them to know, especially about the details. Because as gruesome and crazy as sex was between us, we knew there was nothing better than it in the entire world, and as long as the world couldn't see us, we were perfect. The one flaw in our plans, was that we spent a lot of time together, and most of it was away from people.

We were always at one another's house, and always alone inside. Though, we found out quickly, that we couldn't do that at my father's house. Well, it was Wilson's house in all the written paperwork, but my dad ran it physically. That's how it'd worked for years. But I digress.

The thick smell of blood and sex that hung in the air after each encounter, was too much to risk having in the house. With three other werewolves living there, and even more when the random guests would appear, it was too much of a risk. So that automatically made this place off limits. But we could go into the woods behind my house, bringing a blanket, and some food to make it look like a picnic. It didn't take us long to start getting creative.

Months started rolling by without suspicion, even though me and Nick barely had time to hang out anymore, he didn't mind. I was sure he and Emily were doing the same thing. The two never seemed to be one without the other. And to me, that's what made them special. I was happy for the two of them when I saw them together.

Then, about two months into the school year, Nick hit me with a great offer that was either do or die. His uncle Gary owned an oyster boat, and needed two deck hands to shuck oysters on the weekends. And for ten bucks an hour, we couldn't resist. It gave us the chance to finally make some real money. And it also gave us a chance to hang out in the gulf every weekend.

We'd start early. Around Four-thirty, Nick would come pick me up in his beat up truck, and we'd head over to the Delta Marine. One of the smallest dock sights in Louisiana, but one of the busiest! Oyster boats, Shrimp boats, and Pogey boats were constantly coming in and going out. And in between, loading up with gas and supplies, or unloading the days catch.

I'd always head into Gilbeaux's, a local gas station right in front of the docks. Nick and I would load up on Vienna sausages, chips, he'd get a pack of smokes, and we'd both get a slushy. It was simple living on the week ends.

Then we'd meet Mr. Gary by his boat as he checked the engine, I'd pull the boat around, and we'd gas up. Twenty minutes after arriving at the docks and we'd already be half way to his lot. A 'Lot', was a term used by oyster fishermen, as private property to the captain. There, he could catch as many oysters as he wanted. It was his property.

On the boat we used every weekend, we were lucky enough to have an automatic dredge. It was essentially a net with teeth on the bottom for weight and to rake in the oysters. We usually waited about three minutes after dropping it, to pull it up and start shucking.

Our job, was to knock all the little oysters and clams off the good oysters. Oysters that were opened, we tossed them back, they were bad. If one was slightly opened, that meant an oyster fish had gotten in there and ate the oyster, which meant we had to toss it back. And if it was bigger than my hand... Hell, I opened it, and ate it.

I found out fast that oysters were a delicious meal. Salty, yet satisfying. Nick ate his with Tabasco sauce. Mainly because he couldn't take the salty taste, I'd make fun of him for this with every one he ate.

The eight hour days we worked were just perfect for my weekends, because that meant my day, ended at noon.

We'd pack all the oysters in thick, burlap sacks, tag 'em and toss them onto the automatic conveyor belt that ran them into the warehouse at the docks entrance from the gulf. The smell of that place, of dead fish, and salty water, sounded disgusting, but to me... smelt like home. This was the essence of Louisiana. Hard working people, working off the land in the north, and off the coast in the south. At least that's what Mr. Gary said.

We made almost eighty sacks a day on that boat. Nick had a quick eye, and a good grip, even through the thick gloves we had to wear. And there was no doubt in my mind that I could keep up. And as many times as we raced shucking oysters, it wasn't surprising that we'd come back with so many.

But I have to say, that my favorite thing about working with Mr. Gary, was that he loved to listen to blues as he drove. He cranked Steve Ray Vaughn over the makeshift radio he had set up on the deck. Every so often he'd play some Fats Domino, or some B.B. King. But it was all the same to me. And every second of work, was worth it.

The going rate, per sack of oysters, was eight dollars and sixty-five cents. Multiply that by eighty a day, and you've got yourself one happy employer. He offered a raise for us, but neither one of us took it. I know it sounds stupid, but this man was giving two friends the chance to hang out, out on the water, and enjoy good music. We came onto this job at ten an hour, and we weren't going to change it. By the way, the name of the boat, was Lucille. After B.B. King's guitar.

Every day we'd get paid, and were as Nick's money went into saving for a new truck, mine went to something a little more... self-fulfilling.

******************************************************************************

"What is that?" My dad asked, as I got out of Nicks truck. He was obviously talking about the tarped monster that I'd bought after only a few pay checks. Loaded up in it's own trailer was my new toy. And standing on the porch, knowing how me and Nick got when we hung out, he wasn't surprised to see me uncover a brand new jet-ski.

"Oh, god!" He said, laughing at the thought of what we might do on that death trap. "You're going to kill yourself on that thing!" He said rubbing his eyes.

"Only if we hop on without practice!" I yelled over at him as Nick and I unhooked it from his trailer.

"Yeah, Mr. Thomas, We aren't about to jump on it without a few safety precautions!" He yelled going in to his truck. "We also bought floaties!" Nick yelled, waving them up in the air, forcing my dad to both laugh, and cringe at the ideas he knew we were formulating. The thin little pink floaties were obviously a joke, and as we planned, they did their job.

But as my dad's laughter started to die down, another question seemed to hover around his consciousness. "And where, dare I ask, do you two plan to ride that thing?"

Nick and I looked at each other, "The lake!"

"Oh, god..." he said, rubbing his eyes, and going back inside.


	9. Games

We drove back into town to pick up the girls after unloading the jet-ski. Neither of them knew what we'd planned, but were definitely excited to find out. And when we mentioned they should get some bathing suits, they got even more excited. And as we waited for them to come outside so we could go, Nick leant, sliding across the hood of his truck, "Can witches swim?" He asked.

If he'd asked me a few months ago, I'd have been surprised. But he wasn't talking about what I knew. You see, Angela's mom and the two girls were pagan. Wiccan really. And to normal people, this was as close to real witchcraft as they were going to get. So it satisfied the fantasies of a few teenage girls in the school, and let Emily and Angela, practice out in the open. It was a win win for them. And for me and Nick, it was a subject that two Christian boys didn't need to delve in. It was also weird for a Christian boy to be a werewolf and have sex amidst copious amounts of blood with his unmarried girlfriend, but it wasn't in the werewolf way to wait. We just... did.

Hence the jet-ski.

Emily came out first, and Nick whistled loudly at her as if he were a construction worker, and she, a hot piece of ass walking by during lunch. She posed for him for a second before laughing and getting in the car.

"You can swim, right?" I asked. She punched me in the arm.

"That's a little insensitive!" She yelled in surprise to what I said.

"Oow! I meant could you swim as a person, not a witch!" I yelled, rubbing my arm. She was too tough for a girl, and she wore too many rings, and not to sound like a pansy but I did just get off work too!

"Where's Angela?" I asked.

"She's inside, complaining that she's too pale."

I sighed. That's what I loved about her! But, no matter how many times I told her, she wouldn't believe me. Yet when she came out, I was awestruck at her beauty. She wore a paired black bikini, her bottoms covered by a pair of tiny shorts. Her tall, slender body fit them well, and no matter how many times I'd seen her naked, it always felt like the first time when I saw her in a bra and panties. She was just, so sexy. That long, black hair of hers, that I finally talked her into growing out, fell like ribbons along her small, white shoulders. I'd be drooling right now if the other two weren't with me.

Angela blushed as she heard what I was thinking, and was quick to get this started.

"So can we go now, before anyone sees me!" She yelled at Nick.

"Sure."

******************************************************************************

Nick and Emily sat in the cabin of the truck, and with me and Angela in the back, where the other two couldn't really see us, it didn't stop us from fooling around a little. Our lust... it went everywhere with us. And when we finally stopped at the house, I made it a mental note to wipe her off my fingers and into a rag that was lying in the back of Nick's truck. It was probably being used to check the always dropping oil levels in his truck. It got to the point where every couple of days he had to refill it, because of it's slow, but constant dripping. Thankfully for him though, it barely drained at night.

Nick and I ran inside and grabbed what was left of an entire case of bottled water, and whatever we could find in the cabinets. That included, Vienna sausages, chips, slim jims, little cheese and crackers, animal crackers, and a thing of salsa... we were teenagers. We never planned ahead.

When we came back, the girls were already playing with the jet ski. "That didn't take long." I said, seeing Emily sitting on top of it playing with all the knobs and pushing in the throttle.

"Nick, your girl's flooding the jet ski." I murmured to him.

He ran over and showed her what everything did on it, whilst I tried to figure a way to get the jet ski, to the river.

I knew the lake wasn't that far into the forest. The problem was that there was no trail. And making one, was a bad idea. Derrick would physically show me his distaste on the matter. My dad would yell. Wilson wouldn't mind that much. And it would make the guests feel like humans were around. We had none as of the moment, but still. We really needed to get it in there.

Then it hit me.

"Nick, help me load the trailer up to the truck! I got an idea!"

******************************************************************************

It took us twenty minutes to get to the back road that ran past the lake. It was on the exact opposite side of my family's property, but was public. And seeing as how no one knew about this lake, being that it was right on the boundaries of private property, no one knew to go there.

It took twenty minutes, because I was a nervous driver and no one else knew how to drive a stick shift. The two girls didn't know, and the only experience I had was with the four-wheeler that Nick was occupying behind us. He watched the trailer in the back as we sped down the back roads, trying to find the lake.

With the window down, it was easy for me to find the soft scent of the lake. And as I pulled to the side of the road, the scent became instantly thicker. This was it, the closest point to the lake.

We all got out, as Nick turned the four-wheeler around. As he positioned it around to the right of the trailer, I unhooked it and attatched it to the four-wheeler.

"See!" I said, pointing into the clear brush. "Much better than entering from my house."

"Yeah," Nick agreed, "if only you could've driven a little better all the way here, we might have found this place a little sooner."

The girls laughed at my horrible mechanical skills regarding Nick's truck.

"Shut up and move it!" I yelled over the engine.

"Hey!" Nick yelled as I was making my way into the forestry. "Lock my truck, man!"

******************************************************************************

When we finally got there, I found that the side we were on was definitely better. For starters, there were no tree's lining our side. Also, instead of just dropping off into the lake, the grass seemed to slope right into it. Making it easier for us to back the trailer into the water. And after a few minutes of letting the engine idol, we were off.

Of course I took the first ride... it was mine and you can back off!

I tried to get Angela on it, but she wanted to see how fast it was before even touching it. I didn't wait to get used to it before gunning it and forgetting that you needed to give it gas in order to turn. The result was me falling off because I leant too far into it. And while the others laughed on the shore in their bathing suits, I cursed and climbed back on. Embarrassed into laughing I drove back.

"Yeah. I'm gonna pass riding with you." Angela said, still laughing.

Nick did much better than I did. Even with Emily on the back, but she'd ridden on a jet ski before, so they didn't crash as much as I did. Eventually, it was me and Nick, reverting to old times as he drove full speed, and I tried my hardest to stand up on the front. And without warning he let go of the gas... I kept going, skidding a little as I slowly lowered into the water... upside down.

I came up half-choking half-laughing. Thankfully the water was fresh water, because a lot of it got into my eyes. But, they still stung from the force of the water.

******************************************************************************

The sky was turning darker and darker with every second. And tonight, I wasn't worried about any of the guys changing and hunting, because only my dad was home. Derrick and Wilson were both out attending a wake. I didn't know who died, and once again, it was one of those things that weren't any of my business. Thankfully, they were out of state, so I didn't have to worry about them getting angry when they saw the company I'd be bringing home.

That night was one of the very few nights that were perfect for having company over. My dad was the only one who got along with my friends, even if he did scare them a little. Some times when we'd be playing the play station in the living room, he'd pick up a controller and play. He'd lose, but he would play regardless. And that night he did. Losing very quickly in Soul Caliber 2, against both Nick and I. Angela didn't play, saying she preferred to watch. Emily played once or twice, but Nick, Nick dominated this game. Always on the offensive, knocking people off the platform ten seconds into each match, only losing by luck. And because of his skill, it wasn't long before we all called it a night, and camped out in my room.

******************************************************************************

I gave my bed to Nick and Emily. Not wanting to share it with Angela for obvious reasons. And since we were all in the room, those two wouldn't fool around in my bed and Angela and I could tell when they were finally asleep. I fell asleep waiting, having been up since four in the morning and it now was ten.

Her soft hand shook my bare shoulders, I'd fallen asleep in my bathing shorts. Hell, me and nick both. The girls were the only ones who planned ahead, bringing extra clothes. And where as me and Nick were pretty much the same size, we were just lazy.

I shot up, having remembered being in nightmare, but not remembering what it was about, her shaking scared me a little.

"Shhhhh!" She said, jerking her head to the open door. It was about time we had some time to ourselves.


	10. Stranger's Return

We went back to the lake, and it the warm breeze that filled the nights sky, followed right behind us. It's soft caressing body flowed against our backs as Angela walked by my side. I wrapped my arm around her side and kissed her forehead as we walked and talked. Our conversations ranged from the our sleeping company we left behind, to the future. We both knew that Emily and Nick were only ten months from moving in together in July. I told her how he planned to find a full time job with his uncle, and how he was hoping Emily would find some work to make the transition a little easier.

She told me that Emily planned on going to school, and she did the same. I said I didn't mind. And as we drew closer she looked up at me with her endless beauty, and asked me, "Do you think we'll still be together in ten months?" Her words did put a little doubt in my mind, but not enough for me to be unable to respond.

"Do you love me?" I asked her.

It was the first time that word had escaped my lips. I was so used to keeping it in my mind, until I was sure we were ready for me to throw it on the line.

"Even without the sex, I'd still love you." She replied, after thinking it over.

"Then I love you, and you love me." I said looking ahead as the lake came into sight. "And that's all that matters."

She snickered as she pushed me away and made a run for the water. And after I gained my balance, I chased her.

She jumped in the second she was in range and I wasn't but a second behind. And as I dove in, she came up laughing and splashing me as I fought against the weight of the water to get too her. "That's not fair!" I yelled as water splashed into my mouth. I could taste the dirt and grass that intermingled and floated within the lake.

"And being chased by a wolf is?!" She said not letting up one bit. It wasn't until I was in reach to grab her arms that she sprung forward on me, and we both went under. I couldn't stop laughing and gasped for air when I finally came up.

"You jerk!" I yelled as she came up after me.

She hopped onto me, wrapping her legs around my waist. "I'm only a jerk if you don't win anything." She said smiling at me, her arms resting on my shoulders. She cocked her head to the side as she leaned in for a kiss. Her lips were only an inch from mine when we both heard it.

The strum of a guitar sounded from the shore. And sitting on a broken tree branch, right at the waters edge with his feet in the water, was the strange man with the guitar. He wore a black shirt and black pants, he looked like he'd just gotten back from a funeral. Except for his hat. He wore a large wicker hat, that hid those wild features that I'd remembered from my child hood.

He looked up at my angry face. Angela hid herself behind me, and he stood. "I apologize for my intrusion Michael, Angela." I hated his knowledge.

"Who is that, Michael?" Angela said angrily from behind me.

Putting down his acoustic guitar, he removed his hat, and bowed. "I'm sorry, how rude of myself. I'm the Musician. Derryl A. Treadway, the second." His black hair hung down like a shroud over his face. Last time I'd seen him, he looked to be in his twenties, and as he stood there, I knew he didn't age. The only thing different about him was his hair, and his guitar.

"What are you doing here?" I yelled over at him.

"I'm here, to give you a choice." He said, sitting down at the lakes edge, sinking his legs into the water, ruining his black pants. His face fell as he chose his words. "The beautiful girl in your arms is your salvation, Michael. But there will be pain in remaining with her."

Angela gripped my sides as he spoke. Just the mentioning of her seemed to make her uneasy. And she wasn't the only one. Inside, I knew he was right. He'd been right before.

"What do you mean?!" I yelled, clenching my fists. I had no patience with him.

"Just remember two things. Those who you protect, aren't always your friends. And when the time comes, you have to forgive yourself." Hate boiled across my ears from what he said. Always cryptic, never revealing the truth until it became painfully apparent.

"Derryl! Who wins when you complicate the truth!?" I yelled at him, those browning green eyes glinted sorrow across the lakes rippling water.

He picked himself up and grabbed his guitar, preparing to leave. And before he left, he cocked his head to the side. "The devil."

My skin crawled at his mentioning. 'He didn't mean the real devil... did he?'

Before I could ask, he was gone, disappeared into the forest like he'd never been there. Angela shook in the water.

I wrapped her up in my arms to warm her til we got to the shore. The night was ruined, or so I thought. As we exited the water, I almost tripped on a small box lying on the shore, I hadn't even seen it when the musician was there.

On top of it was a small card, taped to the small, brown cardboard box. It was a knee high, square box, and on it's small card, decorated with little guitars around it's edge, it read:

Sorry for the intrusion, but my news shouldn't be enough to keep your love from blossoming on this beautiful night. So under the moon so blue, and at the waters edge so narrow, take the world as your own. You both deserve the best life has to offer, and if I can help, I will.

I reread the note and then handed it to Angela, who awed at it. "That was so sweet, for such a creepy man." She said trying to figure him out.

"Yeah, I thought the same thing when I first met him!" I said, opening the box. "Okay, we've got a blanket, thick and silk! Nice!" I said going over what was in the box. And pulling the blanket out and handing it too Angela, "We've got two towels. Here, bae. Take these. And... a knife and a phone..."

"Is he always like this?" She asked thinking the exact same thoughts I was.

"I don't know. But since he was so generous..." I said, smiling at her as she dried herself off with the blue towel.

She smiled back.

And as I cleared a spot for the extremely large blanket, in the grass, she checked out the phone. "What time do you need to wake up?" She asked.

"Four. Why?"

"Cause that's what the alarms set for."

"Figures."

******************************************************************************

She washed her feet in the lake as I made a tent with the blanket and a near by tree branch. The ground was firm but comfortable, something I wouldn't mind sleeping on. And once I was done with that, I made a small fire a few feet from the entrance to the tent, which pointed out to the water. I made the fire big enough so that we didn't have to worry about small bugs crawling in the tent, yet small enough so that it didn't keep us up all night. Seeing as how I had work in the morning.

She walked over and into the tent, quickly lying on her stomach next to me as I was on my back. She ran her fingers over my chest softly as she looked into my eyes. "I love you." She said. It was the first time she'd said it out right, and it felt right to tell her I loved her too.

That night, we just lied next to each other, staring into each other's eyes until we both fell asleep. No words, no sex, no distractions. There was only us, and the fire crackling at our feet. And as the night drew to a close, she pulled her body semi-over mine, intertwined her right leg in between mine, and kissed my chest before going to sleep.

"I love you too, bae."


	11. Thoughts of the Father Dane's Will

Two knocks thudded against the Sun room door. It'd been almost a decade since the bad news bearer step foot in that house. It was also around the same time, that Michael started to show his loyalty to his instincts. Something rarely seen in this day and age. I remembered my son's first kill, a rabbit he'd ambushed from the two story high roof. How I was amazed! He had the energy that his mother once shown, and the charisma of a true wolf. Instead of shunning his abilities, he embraced them, learned from them, and was not taught by anyone other than himself, how to control them. The prodigy son, who never noticed what his true potential was, was now being hunted by fate. And as the door to my sanctuary sounded the rasps of the stranger behind them, I couldn't help but think of his mother, the day before I left. She had no idea how much I loved her... I guess that's just the effect I have on people.

"Come in." I said politely. Though I knew the scent of the man at the door, I knew nothing of his origin. This man, this Derryl. He claimed to have lived a hundred times over, and with that claim, came experience. Thoughts of our first meeting, in the middle of a war, this man, this child, held his own, and fought with the ferocity of a wolf, even though the poison never mingled in his system. He was an untouchable force, and yet, he came here for help.

"Hello, Dane." The musician said, smiling through his grief, and setting his oak wood, acoustic guitar against the wall nearest my bookshelf. "It's been a while."

"Yes it has." I rose from my seat and as he came closer, I could see that he knew what was supposed to happen. Tears formed in his eyes, those green eyes that held the pain of the world, seemed on the edge of collapse. He hugged me greatly before he took a seat away from me.

"We've been through this before." I said, trying to calm him down. His eyes were red, redder than I'd ever seen them.

He chuckled, knowing what I was getting at. "It still doesn't make it easier. You and the other two were like brothers too me back in the day." I offered him a tissue, he refused, pulling out one of his own. That was my friend, the musician. Always prepared. Never one to forget a name, nor one to forget his place.

"So how long?" I asked, fear stifling itself at the base of my spine. I was never one to believe in fate before I met this man. He showed me things I couldn't explain in a million years. His planning was perfect when it came to action, and honestly, I'd love too see him in action one more time before I died.

"About a month."

"At least it isn't happening tomorrow." I muttered to myself. "I take it you talked to Michael. How's he and Paula's daughter doing?"

"Angela? They're doing fine. Actually great. No matter how many times I've altered his life in the past, he always wins that girl, and they always make it to the end."

"What about the two upstairs?" I asked. Nick had been like a step son to me. Always around Michael. Making his life easier, making it worth living. I owed that kid more than I let on, but I could never tell him. Without Nick, there was no happy Michael, or so I was told by my comrade. Without Nick, Michael would have become a monster, driven by anger and loneliness, and I could tell that from the time I knew he was my son. Because that's how I was, and how I'll die.

"Them two? A match made in heaven. Though, it will be up too Michael, whether or not it stays that way. He's the peace keeper as you know, and the final piece to our little war." His words were finally starting to straighten out, no longer hung down by his sad tone. "God, I wish things could be different!"

I watched him look at his watch. "Ten minutes, thirty two seconds." He said, keeping time for whatever he planned to come next.

He looked up at me, straightening out his sleeve until it, once again, hid his watch. "So are you prepared to train him?"

I thought about it for a minute. This would be much easier if he could just use his hands generate the skill to my son, rather than the two of us have to cross that dangerous bridge.

"Are you sure he'll survive it?"

"He's your son, isn't he?"

I smiled, and he rose. I guess time was up between us. With another quick hug, he left for the door. But a final question still lingered in my head.

"Is it going to be short?" I asked.

"The man was a coward as a human. And even as a monster, he can't control his fear of you."

I frowned. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Shotgun blast to the back of the head. The fastest death anyone can experience." The words drew sick images in my head. Images that I'd regret as I tried to sleep that night. Images that would soon become reality.

As I showed him off, I thought of my son, and what was about to happen between us. In those final years of the war, I'd never have thought that I'd ever need the use of the plague again. Nor did I ever want to see that dreadful monster. The greatest killing force I'd ever seen, had been lying dormant in my claws for many years, dying and alone. And now I had to bring it out in my son... I choked a little as I said, "Goodbye, friend."

"Hopefully, this is the last time." He said back, forcing himself not to look back at me. I trusted him, and what he knew was right. This was the man that saved my life when he was just a boy with a sword. This was the man who'd given my family six hundred years of servitude to force our world forward. This was the man, who's dream, I would be glad to die for.

Goodbye my friend.


	12. Poisoning the Past

The wind whistled through the scattered patches of darkness that exhaled around the edge of the forests grasp. I rose and danced around the large, silk shelter I lay beneath with my love. The tent swelled and shrank with the passing winds, weaving the offspring of the encounter through the fabric and onto our intertwining bodies. She shivered, waking me from my peaceful slumber.

Instinctively, I rolled over and covered her back with my chest. I slid my arms over hers, and buried my face in the back of her head and neck. Her scent put me back to sleep. There was nothing like it. In the many months we'd been together, her scent seemed to get stronger and stronger. And the faint smell of the lakes surface could do nothing to delude it.

Shortly after I'd fallen back asleep, the alarm on the new phone went off. It played Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata.' And I couldn't tell you how I knew the name. But as I scrambled for it, rolling over Angela in the process, she remained asleep, though barely.

I decided to give her a few more minutes of sleep while I stood outside to stretch, and as I exited the tent, a familiar scent hit my senses. I turned mid-stretch to see my father, fully changed, and bearing down on me. Standing there like a deer in the headlights of a mack truck, I was frozen. Unlike regular wolves, my father stood upright... sometimes. When he came to my rescue back at that camp, he was upright. During regular hunts though, he was normal.

"Dad?" I asked, lowering my arms. His claws retracted then extended at the sound of his name. They almost seemed to glow yellow as my father stood in front of me, poised for attack, but waiting for the command.

"What's wro-" He struck.

His claws dug deep into my right side, and rooted me into the ground, silent. I couldn't gasp, and I couldn't breath. All I could do, was feel. And what I felt, was burning inside the five wounds in my side. Something was releasing into my system as he held me there like a puppet.

My eyes darted to his features for some sort of clarity, but all I saw, was the monster everyone had played him to be. That unnaturally wide mouth, those glinting white spikes that filled it. His wildfire mane that seemed to explode out into the air. The tall harbinger of death, the killer.

These thoughts infiltrated my mind and conflict rose between my love of my father, and my hatred of the pain he inflicted on me. And as he pulled the bloody claws out of my side, and caught me in his arm, I could only feel as though this had something to do with last night's visitor. It had too be, because my father... my father would never hurt me... never...

******************************************************************************

I was seven years old again, my mothers palm smacking me in the face before shoving me to the side so she could go drink without her whiney, little mistake asking her why she hit him. Tattered rags covered my dirty body, stained, and disgusting. That little rats nest apartment that I'd wished I'd never return too, was as filthy as ever. The kind of place where roaches don't scatter at the flip of a light switch.

The air smelt like rotting milk, and felt just as thick as I covered my bruising eye and moved around the now empty apartment. Grabbing a trash bag from under the rusted sink, risking a spider bite, I began my normal routine. Clean and forget about the pain.

"_Why do you bare it?_" A voice asked, rising from the recesses of my mind. I thought it my conscious as I stood, closed the cabinet door, and answered.

"She is my mother."

Before my lips had time to close, someone had grabbed me by the back of my neck. And her painted nails were starting to dig into my collar bone. The pain caused me to gag on my own screams as she yanked me forward and shoved me into the bathroom.

"Clean that fuckin' bathtub!" She yelled, hitting me in the face with an empty bucket, and tossing the rest of the cleaning supplies at my bare feet. The bathroom reeked of a clogged toilet and bad plumbing. "And don't you ever scream like that again, or I'll give you something to scream about, you little shit!" My mother's words were like storming hell, and the rain of her words seemed to peirce me with every drop of malice.

"_She doesn't see you as her son..._" His voice was cold, raspy, and wicked.

"She gave me life."

The door that she'd shut on me burst open. Her drunken face plastered with an angry bewilderment. "What did you say?!" She yelled as she stumbled towards me. She grabbed my ratty hair, slamming my face into the porcelain side of the toilet, stains ran all around it to the point of turning the whole thing yellow.

She pulled my right arm behind me and snapped it easily. Screams that could shatter the ear drum exploded like shrapnel from my lungs. My toes curled from the pain, my eyes opened wider and wider until they hurt, my agony had peaked.

"_Mother's don't do this to their children._" He said, his voice trying to convince me.

"And what does it matter!" I yelled over the screams and shouts of my mother complaining that I was too loud.

"_You need to learn to take a human life._" His voice crackled, half-laughing. "_And it's starts, NOW!_"

My arms flailed without my consent, and grabbed my mother by the throat. I twisted my thumbs around her trachea, popping it out of place in my hands, and she began to choke. "Stop." I muttered under my shock.

She flung her arms in all directions, smashing the bathroom mirror into pieces. "Please, stop..."

My hand dove for the largest shard, slicing into my palm and fingers as I gripped it, and raised it high. "Stop... please..." My plead became winded and hurt for me to exhale.

The bladed mirror came down with thunderous vengeance. "STOP!!!"

The world seemed to flee at my words. My surroundings fled into the dark cracks of the home of my torment, leaving only, a blinding, white light.

I covered my eyes, the light seared at my sight, and burned through my eye lids. Though, through the cracks in my bleeding fingers, I could see a figure. His entire body seemed covered in black. And despite the horribly bright light coming from all directions, I could see his smile.

It was wide and demented. Eyes white as the room that surrounded me, teeth covered in saliva, housing a forked tongue that slithered around in it's cage. "_Why should we stop_?" He asked, his body being propelled by some invisible force til he was inches from my face. "_When there is so much more pain for us to explore_!"

******************************************************************************

I stood, gripping Emily, raising her by her throat. It was the first time I'd ever had to decide whether or not to kill a human being.

"_And the first time you showed your weakness_."

She gasped and writhed in my grip, I pushed her harder into the wall to keep her from struggling. Warring emotions scraped inside of my skull as her life became closer and closer too ending. I couldn't kill her... But I couldn't let go either.

"Ha ha ha!" She started laughing, as I became stale mated with my own consciousness. "Why would you save me if I'm just going to betray you?" She asked, those blue eyes, honestly seeking an answer. My own darted around in my head, praying for an answer to appear. "Then why not kill me now?"

"Because." I said.

"Because why?"

"Because..." It hit me. "You don't deserve it."

"_Wrong!_" She said, shifting into the black devil that haunted this nightmare of mine. He kicked me hard, and as I stumbled back, I fell hard against what appeared to be the chair I'd been sitting in with my talk with Seymour. And as I looked up, there he was.

Petrified as my father rose his massive fist to strike hard against the man who was, seconds before, about to kill me. I ran.

"_Why save these people, when all they bring you is dishonesty, and pain_?!" He yelled, watching me from the dark corner of the room.

My movements were slowed to a crawl as I slid in between my father and my enemy.

"_He wants to live so bad that he'd sacrifice his own daughter for a taste of extra life, and here you risk life and limb too save him?! WHY?!_" He screamed, watching me come up to block the attack.

"Because," I said, staring at him. My resolve seemed to stun him as the blow came closer and closer too me. "I have the responsibility."

The attack connected against my arms, and the world, shattered.


	13. Newborn

Awaking to the cold touch of saliva running down the side of my mouth, my consciousness seemed to twist one reality away from the other. Lines grew and spider-webbed across the sky, the world bled light, and through it all, I saw her. Her eyes peered through the cracks, a glance on the other side of my unconscious, open sight. The smell of my blood hit my nose, causing me to swallow the stagnant drool gathering in my gaping mouth. I was alive.

My sense of touch came back too me, and I felt beaten, and weary. The wavy breathing of my fathers changed form rolled across my back and neck as he knelt, and helped me sit. I could smell his moist breath before it even misted against the early morning cold. His fur was warm, and just as it comforted, it rolled away from my skin, replaced by the hard, unforgiving bark of a near by tree. The constant movement stopped all of the sudden, and I wanted to puke.

I grabbed my sides, and breathed deeply. Blood poured out... at least I thought it was blood. When I brought my hand up to see it, I knew instantly that it wasn't blood. It was thick, like blood. Dark, like it too. But blue. Blood ran along my fingers from the wound, but this... this was something else.

I must've stared at it for ten minutes before putting my aching arm down. The more I thought about it, the more it puzzled me... the more it troubled me.

The muffled sounds of Angela's voice rose and fell in my ears, I couldn't understand a single word. At least, not at first. As my eyes darted around the campsite we'd made the night before, I started to recognize what she was saying, as my name. Over and over again, she whispered it. She tapped my face, trying to keep eye contact. In a stupor, I told her she had beautiful eyes. She smiled slightly, as if dealing with a drunk, and kept at it.

"Listen, Michael." She said, gaining my attention. "We've got to get you back too the house."

And without a moments rest, her hands fell from my face to my shoulders. I wasn't standing, and then soon before I realized it, I was. I wasn't walking, but before I could complain about the pain, I started forward. Everything happened before I was ready, and under me, guiding me, was my lover, and to my right, my father. I knew he could have carried me (outright) on his shoulders, but he decided to let her help. And if I hadn't noticed before, they were arguing.

Both of them shouted, then awaited the other's response, and I couldn't hear a single word. And just as I'd gotten used to walking, I fell. The arching wooden steps too the house caught the top of my right foot, and I plummeted into the angled wood. Blood fell before my eyes as they picked me up.

More people came to my side, and more hands touched against my skin. Something deep inside started to rebel, but I made sure it never did. My arms became cold, and my vision began to blur in splotches, yet sharpen everywhere else. And before I knew it, I could hear them all arguing again. In the mish-mosh of their heightening voices, I said something... I couldn't remember what it was, but it hurt to say. My voice was hoarse and my neck felt like it was going to collapse under the weight of my head.

An even warmth washed over my body, I thought it was because I was now inside, but it was a little more than that.

I felt my stomach clench. I'd felt that feeling hundreds of times before, and I'd instigated them all. The feeling of freedom, is what I'd named it. And it's always been just that, freedom. It was the first step of my speeding evolution. The first step of the change. And just as quickly as it started, everything went black.

******************************************************************************

I jumped awake, scaring the two beside my bed. Nick and Angela looked like they'd been sleeping at my bedside for a while, due to thick red lines that ran along their foreheads. Their arms were red too, only Angela's left was wrapped in a thick gauze.

"What happened?" I asked, my head both spinning, and stinging. Raising my hand too my head, pieces of that morning flashed into my head. My father, changed, cutting into my sides. Angela shaking me awake, after my nightmare. The two arguing.

I looked too the two, their faces both said the same thing...nothing. Instead, Angela's eyes pleaded me not to ask again... Nick couldn't even face me. It meant two things, they knew something terrible, and they couldn't tell me.

"Angela..." I said, I grasped her shoulder lightly, "Why did my dad..."

"Don't ask me to tell you." She said, tears gathered in her eyes, but she wouldn't allow them too fall. In them, glinted the lights in my room. They flashed differently than they would any other time. Usually, my sight was such, that a single tear acted like a mild disco ball... now, it was like looking out onto the ocean at sun up. Diamonds filled it, and they did so without glare.

"Nick?" I asked, looking at him. His jaw was clenched, but he looked at me, even though he didn't want too. He looked at me different. I knew this look though. It was the same I'd given my father after he showed me that I was his son... He knew.

But.

"You know?" I asked, even though the evidence was irrefutable.

"I know what you are..." His voice was low, and he looked betrayed. I couldn't blame him. I'd kept this one, big, secret away from him for years. "Your dad told me."

'My dad?' The thought echoed in my head, and apparently, found its way somewhere it didn't belong. Because, as the bile in my throat from their weary glances started back down, anger began to rise. A lot of it. "My dad..."

He stabbed me, then saved me. Told me to keep my secrets from my friends, then betrays me by letting them spill like groceries from a wet, paper bag? He keeps me from the truth, why? Why so discrete as too scare my friends from telling me, why?

And as I quickly found out, my body wanted answers more than my mind. Because, mid thought, I was standing forward, legs perched on my bed, and I jumped through the open door, and latched onto the railing for the stairs, changed, and poised... but it felt different.

He stood there, in the middle of a conversation with Angela's mother, and he was just becoming conscious of my actions as I launched from the railing, tearing it apart. He dropped his coffee, rose his hands up to defend himself, but it was too late, and my outstretched arms had already gripped his throat. We both sailed through the kitchens island, splintering it apart.

Before he could react I grabbed him up, and slammed him against the fridge, he didn't seem to feel the pain as I did so, but instead, he grabbed my arm. I didn't know what he was doing, so I squeezed harder. His head became tinted with read, but still he tapped against my forearms. I looked at them and back to him, twice before realizing it. Angela's screams could be heard from the destroyed stairwell. But I wasn't listening anymore, I was too busy noticing something... different.

I stood upright. Werewolves don't do that, or so I thought. They also didn't have human like arms, nor fingers like mine, gripping against my fathers tense neck. I'd only seen this once, and that was when my father saved me. A memory I wasn't ever going to forget... and the memory, that made me let go of him.

"You needed to change from a hunter, to a leader." He said, gasping and rubbing his neck with his right hand. His left fell on my shoulder as he gained control of his breathing. His eyes peered into mine, showing me a deep sadness. It wasn't like him to show a weakness, not if front of other people, that is. "Because I'm not going to be around forever."

******************************************************************************

The damage to the stairwell and the wrecked island in the kitchen totaled to almost five grand too fix. Or so said the contractor that argued with my father on the porch. I couldn't blame him on the price either. Being called over here after dark, then being haggled with by my father did seem to make people a little less generous. I could hear them, clear on the other side of the house, where a big bon fire loomed in the back yard. Usually, I'd never come out to the back yard, mainly because the guests who stayed here from time to time, complained about having me back there. But that was years ago.

Angela, sat next to me on the ground, my arm wrapped around her to keep her close under the night sky. I ran my fingers up and down her gauzed arm. And the thought lingered, "Did I do that?"

"Yeah." She said, making me stop. She pulled my arm around her waist and under her hurt arm, looking away from the fire to stare into my arms. "But you redeemed yourself." She said, smiling.

"How?" I asked, curiosity letting me forget about the day.

She leaned away from me slightly, "When you grabbed me, you said you loved me."

I laughed.

"Don't laugh at me!" She said, hitting me in the side. She was violent when she got angry with me, something that always made me smile. "It was sweet."


	14. Reconcile for Truth

The night sky... was at the peak of it's beauty that night. I remember the crisp air sliding under my nose as it rolled through the open window behind the pull-out-couch in the living room, where Angela and I lay. Looking out through the crystal clear glass, I could see the stars, shining like beacons out to worlds unbeknownst. The Darkened moon shifted behind the constantly moving clouds, hiding from my sight. And the deep, dark black that housed it all, became a giant beast, ready to swallow it all.

Angela shifted as I admired how clear of a night it was. Rolling back over onto my chest, slightly scratching her head, and yawning as she did so. 'She's perfect.' I thought, as she once again, became still and silent. Her scent intermingled with the ever moving current flooding through the window. I could practically see it, it was so clear to me now. My senses were spiking in accuracy and depth. And I loved it. I loved the fact that my skin was so sensitive, that I could feel her blood and heartbeat right through it. I loved the fact that I could now hear every move, that everyone made upstairs. And as for my sense, of smell... I guess I'd be beating a dead horse to hop on my love for that subject again.

I ran my fingers up and down her spine, tracing over the soft fabric, and feeling through to the warmth of her skin. Keeping my breathing down so I could listen to her heart beat wasn't hard, but it was hard to determine whether I was listening to mine, or hers.

Something upstairs stirred against the now, loud floor. At feared it was the two in my bed, but this sound wasn't the sound of my bed posts scraping against the floor, which did bring relief. Until I heard it again. A sort of shuffling across the hardwood floor boards in my room. I knew it either had to be Nick or Emily, because no one else was up there.

Checking the time on the VCR/DVD player, (12:00 blinking across it over and over again) I frowned. We never did figure out how to set that damned thing! Just the thought of trying to set it made me almost forget the noises up stairs.

Muffled voices filled the rooms atmosphere, and it worried me. Nick had been so distant ever since he found out the truth, and even though Emily tried to help him get over it, he'd still refused to even talk too me. At first I thought that this would blow over soon enough, he'd be over this within hours... I knew my friend... right?

As the sound of the bedroom door creaking opened disproved my theory, I shifted myself up on the mattress. I watched as Nick came down the stairs, his keys glinting in his hand as he passed. He was just going to leave?

"Hey." I whispered, Angela rolled against me as I sat up to talk to him.

"What?" He asked, his hand perched on the door knob, his head refusing to turn to meet my gaze.

"You're just going to leave?"

"What of it?" He barked under his breath.

"What about Emily? Are you going to leave her too because of what she is?" I said, speaking out of anger. He took it just as I'd expected him too... by turning the knob, and walking out, letting the door swing close on it's own weight.

It wasn't long before I was out on the porch yelling at him to stop. My black pajama pants blew against the skin of my legs and stuck like spandex as soon as I got into the path of the wind. I crossed my chest to protect it as best as I could from the cold breeze.

"It's always about you," he said, turning around, half-way to his truck. "You and that little world that revolves around you!"

"What are you even talking about?"

"You!" He said yelling taking a few steps in my direction. "Ever since I could remember, you've been secretive, and happy to live both of your little lives, and happy to keep them away from each other."

"Well, it's kind of hard to survive unnoticed when the two know about each other!" I yelled back at him, feeling like I'd called him an idiot.

"Survive?" He yelled, half-laughing... not in a good way. "Don't bullshit me! If anyone found out, then you'd just kill them... wouldn't you?"

He was right, but he was also wrong.

"You're alive." I said, not holding back against this argument. "Emily's alive." He was quick too get within striking distance of me.

"Don't ever talk about her like that, again!"

"Why? She's the reason we're in this mess!" It slipped my tongue, and he was quick too punch me square in the face. My nose stung a little, and I'd wish he'd done more damage. Because after what I'd said, I felt like I deserved it.

"We're through."

"Then you're leaving." I stated, rubbing my nose trying to mask the truth. "Without Emily?"

He reared back and was about to swing again when I caught his hand. He swung with the left and I caught it as well. "I know what I said was out of line." He struggled to pull his hands free, kicking me in the stomach and legs.

"But would anyone else go through this just to make amends with his best friend?" I asked, as he stopped struggling, and looked me in the face. He was wearing his contacts that night. I could tell because of his astigmatism didn't cock his left eye out like it did without them. That anger that was once in his face was depleting.

"If you think I'm selfish, then that's fine. But don't forsake the girl who loves you, just because you're mad." I let go of his hands, "This is my fault, hate me."

I went to walk inside, the cold knob slid through my fingers as I went to turn it, "Wait."

I turned back around.

"Now that I know what you people have been doing here... Care if I hear a few stories?" He said, a small smile making amends for every sore bruise that had been inflicted on me.

"Sure. We have a couple of hours before work." I said smiling.

******************************************************************************

Our feet were kicked up on the porch railing and we both leaned back in the wicker chairs that kept their balance, even on two legs. He was on his third cigarette when I'd asked if I could try one. I'd tried to pick up smoking before (What couldn't kill you...), just so the smell wouldn't bother me anymore when we crossed paths. But it never stuck. I'd never bought pack before, which I thought automatically made a person a smoker.

He'd obliged my curiosity. Pulling out a soft pack of Camels and handing me a cigarette and his Zippo lighter. The name Harley-Davidson was emblazoned along the side of it, making it look like a collectable, rather than a lighter.

That first inhale of it was horrible. I am not even going to lie. The second, a little less than the first. Really, I loved the taste, just not the aftertaste. At two in the morning, it didn't matter how long it'd been since you'd last eaten, that morning bad breath was imminent.

"You're supposed to inhale it." He said laughing at what a fool I'd looked like. My face scrunched up at the aftertaste.

"I am!"

I forgot what we were talking about, almost as soon as I'd asked for the damn thing. And as lights entered the driveway, I'd forgot the conversation.

A car pulled up, white with tented windows. I'd never seen it before, and when I asked Nick, he'd said the same. It wasn't modest on parking either, pulling right up to the left of the steps. I hadn't remembered anyone calling in to use a room, and if they did, my dad would have been out there with us... waiting.

The car stopped suddenly against the soft, wet grass, sliding across it, tearing it up. The two passengers didn't even wait for the engine to cut off before stepping out and making a B-line for the front door.

I stepped in front of the two as the larger man grabbed for the handle. He was really tall, and really big, I'd have to guess he looked fourty, but in werewolf years, I'd say he was eighty something. The way he dressed was like he was stuck in the twenties, when mobs were still around. And because of his slicked back hair and the force of which he held in his presence, I'd have to say he looked very mobbish. He had brown hair, greasy like the undercairage of Nick's truck, and brown eyes that just screamed goon.

The other man was much smaller, about half this man's height. I wasn't surprised to hear he had a squeaky, little, rat voice, either. "It's not polite to hop in someone's way like that, kid."

"I apologize, but there are people inside who are asleep right now." I said, faking a modest smile. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to know what your business is here... at two in the morning."

The big man looked back at the smaller, he reminded me of lurch from the Adams Family. But then again, lurch wasn't ever in the mob.

"Look, kid. We're just here to find out why there's a couple grand missing from our employer's bank account." He said. My mind shot straight to the incident earlier in the day. I asked myself whether my father was a thief, stealing from bad men. But outside, my stance didn't change. And so, I was honest.

"That would be my fault. We had a little damage to the house and we are waiting for the contractors to come and fix it. My father had paid in advance. But, I didn't know he was borrowing money from the mob." I said a little blatantly.

They both laughed. "You hear that Tony?" The little man said, pointing at me with those little, rat, fingers of his. "He's the Saints son."

The other man stopped laughing. There was something about knowing that I was the son of Dane, that didn't sit well with him, and so... he swung at me.

I'd been waiting for him to strike, and it wasn't hard to figure out who'd strike first anyway.

So when he struck, I ducked and pushed him off the porch, watching how the smaller man reacted. I saw he drew his hand back to grab something in the back of his pants, I attacked him. I easily slipped my arms in between his, roping them behind him, and posting him forward like a shield.

Tony had regained his stature and began walking forward, and I had to think fast. And so I did what my instincts told me too, I changed. I barely twitched as it happened, though, the expansion of my forearms did pull one of my hostages arms out of it's socket.

It wasn't hard too tell that neither of them had seen an upright before, because Tony didn't move a muscle, and the guy who acted as my hostage began calling me a freak and screaming to get away. I covered his mouth with my hands. The dripping blue plague seeped through my claws. This soon became more than words.

Tony withdrew a small black pistol, and made the biggest mistake of his life... when he pointed it at Nick.


	15. Manners

Nick hadn't even moved a finger since the two had arrived on my doorstep. They crossed my threshold with the intent on bringing fear and pain down upon my father and family, and that wasn't going to happen.

"Let him go, and your little human friend doesn't have to die." He pleaded, that deep voice was fitting for his size. And the entire time, I thought him, too stupid to even talk.

The blue plague dripped from my claws onto the small man's skin, searing into it like acid. I wanted more than his screams as he writhed in my arms.

"I SAID LET HIM GO!!!"

Something dark was rising out of me as his hand started shaking. I looked over at Nick, his face stricken with fear, pleading to me to oblige the dangerous man with the gun, and so I did.

I pulled my arm from between his, and let him go. Almost immediately, Tony's arm swung the pistol in my direction. He aimed, and fired.

Ducking, I leaned forward. My clawed feet propelled me into the small man as he ran, and I ramped over him, clawing gashes in his back before plummeting onto Tony. My claws sank into his right arm. His screams... the smell of blood... it was something I'd always imagined it would be. Hunting something a little smarter than a deer, and a little more dangerous than a fox.

A blood lust reached my mouth as I rose my hand into the air. My claws glistened wet with the plague as I sneered into the eyes of my prey. My sight turned red, the world turned dark and moist with the blood of the future, and I couldn't have been more exhilarated.

My clawed hand came down hard as something behind me sounded off. I wasn't worried about it, my prey was so close to death, that I could taste his life fading away already. And sooner than I'd expected, the strike stopped with the crushing force I'd put behind it.

My father slid under me, his arms pushed out, catching the blow. "I said that's enough, Michael!"

Instantly, my blood lust left me to the reality of the mistake I'd almost made. My breathing was fast, and short. I'd never experienced something so brutal in my life. I wanted... my body wanted him to die by my hands and my hands alone. It felt as though I was pre-disposed to end this mans life, and for a second, I liked it.

"That's enough..." He said, breathing heavily under my arm. The plague dripped onto his skin, and I noticed it didn't burn him as it slid down his cheeks. For that I was glad.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

An old man withdrew from the white car, clapping. "Well, well, well." He said. He wore a brown business suit that definitely suited him. He had a full set of white hair still, even though he looked to be well into his seventies... at least in human years. The features on his face, were all too familiar. His black hair, cold blue eyes, and that smile...

"Well, son." He said, his gaze falling from me to my dad. "Looks like you could use a little help controlling that little pup of yours."

******************************************************************************

My dad told me to go back inside and get the two girls and take them home. And when I didn't move fast enough, he yelled it at me. I turned away, still changed, and unable to argue. I'd never seen my dad so angry. But it wasn't me that this anger of his was directed at, it was the man before him.

"Why are you here, Marcus?" He asked, colder than it had ever been before.

I didn't stick around to hear them argue about the money that my father had used to pay for the repairs on the house. Instead, I coaxed Nick back into the house and motioned for him to go get Emily. I changed back, thankful that my legs weren't thick enough (Changed) to tear my pajama pants, because I knew my father wouldn't have been okay with me wasting time on changing clothes.

Nick and Emily were down within seconds, but I decided to just pick Angela up and carry her too the car... I knew how hard it was to wake her. I held her up in my arms and had her hold onto my neck as she clung, half-asleep.

Nicole, Angela's mother, came out asking what was going on, and I told her everything as Nick and Emily came down the stairs. And she gave me the keys, and told me to get a move on. When I asked whether or not she should come along, she assured me that she could take care of herself. I was sure she could, too.

I lead my two friends through the wolves. Emily tried not to stare at the two on the ground, writhing in pain, I had the same problem. Tony's arm had turned black and withered away as he gripped at it. The strength of the plague was much stronger than I'd realize, and a overwhelming feeling of guilt washed across my conscience.

The smaller man was definitely in pain, but he wasn't moving. Foam lined his gasping mouth as the plague devoured the meat in his back. I'd caused this. This was my fault. And inside, my thoughts were even less comforting.

"Michael, is it?" The old man called Marcus, asked.

"Nick, take Emily to the truck." I told him. He did just as he was told, not wanting any conflict to occur while the two were near the center.

"You cause a lot of pain with your gift." He said, that smile, masking his every thought.

"I've noticed."

"Have you, now?"

I just walked past him. Ignoring his question like it were an invitation to more pain.

"Is that your mate, lying peacefully in your arms?" He asked, making me stop.

"Don't let him manipulate you!" My father yelled at me, "And get to the damned truck!"

My teeth clenched as the old man grinned at me. My grandfather. I could have went a few more years before meeting him, I thought it a blessing that I'd gone this far without seeing him.

"It'd be a pity if something would happen too her... wouldn't it?"

"Only if the offender wanted to drown in a pool of his own blood." I responded, not turning to see his changing features. Instead, I followed the orders of my father, and got into the truck.

"Hurry and get to Nicole's. There should be someone there waiting for yall." My father yelled as we backed up in the truck too leave.

As we left, Angela shifted in my lap, and kissed my chest in her sleep. I smiled a little as I looked down at her peaceful features, asleep and unaware. So peaceful.

******************************************************************************

I left Angela in the car as I approached the house. A feint scent of another werewolf hung in the air as I drew nearer and nearer too the door. My tension rose, and I grasped the gold painted handle of the door. My breath was caught between my lungs and my throat as it creaked open, my nerves ready to strike whatever lay inside.

Even though my father said someone was here for us, I couldn't be sure that it was someone who we could trust. And with Nick, Emily, and especially Angela with me, I wasn't taking any chances.

There was movement in the dark living room to the quaint house I'd entered. I heard the truck door open behind me, knowing it was Nick, I waved him back. And as I did, the lights flipped on.

I was shocked at first to see her. But once it wore off, I tore forward, and gave her hug. I hadn't seen her in years, and she seemed just as happy to see me safe as well. Her red hair had gotten very long over the years, and those deep brown, almost red, eyes still held that same exuberance that they'd always had.

"Awe, Michael. It's so good to see you!" She said, pulling me away to get a better look at me. "I can't believe how tall you've gotten over the years! I wish we could have visited each other a little earlier. And under better circumstances."

"Same her, Claire."


	16. Catching Up

We spoke only for a moment, expressing how we'd missed the other, and refusing to believe it'd been almost seven years since we'd last saw each other. After that though, we had to herd the other three inside. Nick fought against Emily's complaining. She couldn't really stop, being as tired as she was. Saying the world would be a little more quiet if there were just a few less werewolves to come knocking on the door at two in the morning! Claire and I both shared a laugh as he agreed with her without listening, guiding her to her room and then shutting the door behind them.

I had Angela, once again, sleeping in my arms. Hers strung around me like a safety net as I sidled her in through the narrow, screen door. Claire had been standing Mrs. Nicole's kitchen, waiting for the coffee she'd put on earlier to finish brewing. The soft, delicious scent filtered in and out living room as I moved through it. Though there was one other sense that was steadily filling the air in the house, and it was Claire's all knowing smile.

"So I see you've been busy." She whispered, pouring herself a cup of coffee, and taking a drag from a lit cigarette I'd barely noticed was even in the house. Seeing as how Mrs. Nicole always smoked inside, I really didn't sense the difference in the smell of the house... but then again, I had been up for quite a few hours. She rose an empty glass, asking if I'd like a cup, and I nodded.

"Not so much." I said, laying Angela on the plush, tan couch, and snagging an Afghan off the back of if to cover her with. She was still in just a small pair of shorts she'd brought with her to change into after swimming. Well, that and my Fender T-shirt. "I've been trying to settle down a little, and look for a place to live."

It was true, after what Nick had said about getting out on his own with Emily, the same obsession had been implanted in myself... even if it had been a little more lackidasical. It'd been more like a re-occurring dream I'd been thinking about, rather than an actual goal.

"Why not just stay with your father and the other two." She said. Something about what she said didn't sit well with me as I answered.

"Because, it wouldn't really be _my_ home, would it..." It hit me then as she handed me my coffee, and sat across from me. "So you know?"

"I've known ever since the last time I came to see you. You remember?" She said, tossing me her pack of smokes. "Just like I know you smoked a cigarette tonight."

Just being around her, you would think she was human. And as she smiled, I knew why I'd always thought of her as my surrogate mother. Because she was always a step ahead, and always kind to me with whatever she said. She kept her instincts at bay without trying, and could pass for human any day of the week, even if she hadn't changed in months.

And even though, it was the first night I'd had a smoke since the first day I'd worked on Mr. Gary's boat, I took the pack, pulled out one from the middle, lit it, and laid back on the chair opposite of the couch my mate slept on. "If you knew, then why did everyone tell me not to mention it too you?"

"That's between me and Dane, hun."

"Still... I'm glad to see you." I said, taking a sip of coffee and refusing myself sleep until this whole ordeal was over.

In the mean time, I'd told her about how me and Angela met. After that came questions about Emily, and there went that story. We spoke for hours, and when I mentioned how changed my father was when around me, she smiled. I could tell she was happy I had a good father now, and it was delightful to have someone like Claire, who hated my father, love the fact that he made me what I was today. And just so you know, I did leave out the sex... because that would have been the most awkward conversation ever.

After a few hours, she told me what she'd been up too. Having originally gone to college to be a teacher, she'd always wanted to follow through with her dreams. But when I last saw her, she was still a substitute teacher. Now she taught English Literature 101. I congratulated her instantly. Last time I'd seen her house, was about seven Christmas's ago. And that was when I first saw how many books she'd read, and the numbers were well into the triple didgets. Knowing what she knew now, she said, she should have fought tooth and nail for this job in the first place.

That's when I'd asked a question that had been long overdue. "Why don't you just live with a pack?"

"Because I chose not to." She replied simply. She pulled her long, red hair away from her eyes like an opening curtain before continueing. "There _are_ some of us who prefer to hunt, eat, and live alone. I'm one of them, always have been. And after listening to you for the past couple of hours, I can tell that you're on the same road."

I'd never thought about the fact that I rarely hunted with the others. Hell, I didn't even know what Wilson looked like changed, and couldn't remember the last time I'd had fun in a pack hunt. All I could say was that she had me pegged from the beginning.

"It's nothing bad, you just like you're privacy." She took a sip of coffee, finishing her third cup. I was still on my second, slowly taking unwanted sips just to stay awake. "Besides, that'll change if you decide to change Angela, or not."

I almost choked on my nasty coffee when she'd said it. The burn fought it's way into my nose, and thankfully never came out. But it did burn, though.

"What?!"

She looked surprised, like I didn't know what she was talking about.

"Michael. You age twice as slow as she does. You are going to have to decide whether of not you want to grow old with her, or live your last eighty years without her." She spoke the cold hard truth.

"But how will I know if we're even meant to be together?" I asked. Fear plagued my mind when I thought of the two of us ever falling apart. She was all that held me together, like a sheath for a sword. She kept me docile, and happy. I couldn't handle losing her. And I guess that found its way to my features. Because, Claire was laughing.

"Don't get so worked up." Her enthusiasm about the whole subject, was welcomed, but a little condescending. "What your body says, goes. It's as simple as that." She said, putting out her cigarette. "Besides, it's not like we're human."

******************************************************************************

The telephone rang right in my ear, startling me and Angela awake. We'd been smashed together on the couch. Rather, she slept half-on me, and I slept half-off the couch. But now, as I slid off the couch completely, neither of us were asleep.

I grabbed the phone with a furious dilerium, jamming my finger into the green, call button, killing the noisy ring. Afterwards, I took a second or two too relax before answering.

"Hello?" I said, groggily. Feeling as though I'd slept only a few seconds.

"Michael? Where's Claire?" My father asked.

"I dunno. I'll go look outside."

"Well, wait. As soon as you get Claire, grab Angela and come home."

"Why just Angela?"

"Don't ask questions, just hurry!" He yelled. A sense of urgency made me jittery all of the sudden, and very rushed.

I practically kicked open the door open when I told Claire that we had too hurry and get back too the house. And without any wasted time, she tossed her lit cigarette into the cold, damp yard and followed me inside to get her keys and purse. I, on the other hand, rushed Angela into the small silver Nissan that Claire had rented for her time down here. Many thoughts flashed inside my head about what this was all for. None of them plausible.

And as we headed to the house, going twenty-five over, I prayed it wasn't about the tired girl who laid her tired head on my shoulder as we drove home.


	17. Formal Agreement

It wasn't until we herded back into the house (at six in the morning!) that my dad hit me with his bomb of a question.

"What have you two been doing?" He said, furiously. He was sitting in the kitchen when we entered the door way, and even waited until I sat across from him at the table to ask what was wrong.

"Drinking coffee and catching up at Mrs. Nicole's house." I replied, a little confused by his question.

"No! Not you and Claire", he said, "You and Angela."

I didn't want to answer it, to tell you the truth. I wanted to avoid this question like the black death. So, hoping it was something else, I replied, "What?"

Mrs. Nicole, who'd been standing on the far side of the kitchen, came forward and leaned on the table. "Sex. Have you been having sex?" She said, obviously a little embarrassed at just the word itself.

"Yeah, so what?" Angela said from behind me as she came and took a seat to my right. She was still in those short, shorts, and my giant T-shirt... which wasn't helping the situation. I found that in these situations, it's best to stay subtle. Because it's always the guy who gets screwed afterwards. But Angela wasn't going to patiently dance around the subject, no matter how I pleaded in my mind for her not to. And I knew she heard me.

The two across from us were damn close to livid at her coming out with it. My dad, slammed his hands on the table, then pressed his face between them. Mrs. Nicole, was a little more subtle. She just lit a smoke in the house like she was in for one hell of a ride.

"What's wrong with that?" Claire asked from behind me, just as confused as Angela and I.

My dad uncovered his face. "Because he's addicted to hunting and blood, and going through our puberty. And she's an empath." He said, summing up exactly what we'd been doing in one simple prase. It didn't take long for Angela's mother to realize what he was saying. And once it sank in, she looked horrified.

Claire was a little less effected by what he was saying, taking it like someone said that people sometimes spit in other peoples fast food when they're dicks. It wasn't until my dad went on that she, Angela, and I started to realize how dangerous this whole situation was.

"Claire, you should remember the stories of how our ancestors infected humans." He said, rubbing his forehead, sweating a little.

"Yeah, by biting them." She replied, just as I would.

"Before that."

She shrugged. "I know they used to capture wounded humans and change them under the full moon, but I haven't read our history in years."

"Obviously." Angela's mom snorted. Claire glared at her from the living room.

"It's not my place to know!" She yelled at the witch.

"Claire, calm down." Dad said, raising his hands and standing between the two. "Angela," He turned too her, a sort of sadness floated around him, and I couldn't figure out why. "They say that when our kind would fight, the victors would capture the wounded. They'd bring them back to where ever they hid their packs, and they'd wait until the next full moon to change them.'

"What does this have to do with anything?" Angela said. I knew she could read his mind like a book, but if it was so terrible that she couldn't even trust her own abilities, then I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.

"The captives who made it to the next full moon, were bound against a tree, shaven of all branches and obstructions too the moon." Angela grabbed my hand, and squeezed. "Then they would weed out their weakest warrior, and kill him. Drain him of all his blood."

I clenched my teeth, and wrapped my other hand around hers.

"Then they would force it down the captives throat, until it took, and he became one of them."

"That's impossible!" I yelled abruptly. "The venom changes humans to us, not blood."

"Blood is sacrificed by our bodies to make the venom. That's because blood is less potent, that's why we fully change now a days."

Silence filled the room. But inside. Guilt sweltered right along anger. 'This whole time...' I thought. 'I'd been poisoning the woman I loved.'

I couldn't take it. My head seared with pain as I tried to shut out my thoughts. I constantly fought the phrase, 'It's all my fault.' And it only got worse.

"Michael..." Angela said, trying to look me in the face.

My head hung low, my black hair sheltered the others faces from my sight. I saw them as angry confused beings, just making my life worse and worse as my guilt plagued me. I fought back tears along with guilt and it hurt so much. The salt behind my eyes burned like freshly diced onions.

"Michael..." She said again, shaking my shoulders lightly. Her soft touch making it so much harder to keep back the tears. Why hadn't I been more careful?!

I thought of what Claire had said, and where as I did have to make a choice, I wished it could have been Angela's as well. Instead, I sat there. Now noticing the slight differences in her scent weren't because of my newly found abilities, but because of hers. Her strengthened scent overwhelmed me as I crossed my arms over the table and laid into them.

Her arms draped over my back, comforting and forgiving, and all I could do was whisper, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

My chest rose and fell spastically as I tried to control my tears. I could feel hers sinking through my shirt.

"How do we even know she's changing?" Claire asked, finally uncovering her mouth.

"If my dad could point it out within the two seconds he was around her, I'm pretty sure can safely assume this to be the case." My dad said. His hand reaching over the table, grasping my shoulder.

"But now you two, look at me Michael," He said. I rose my head from my wet arms, and wiped the tears away from my red eyes. "You two need to make a choice."

I couldn't help but remember the last time I'd talked to the Musician. He'd also asked us to make a choice, and it was an easy one to make. But now, in this room. Father and son, Mother and Daughter on the spot... I feared it wouldn't be an easy one to make.

"You can either stay here, and live together until you can afford your own house." He began. "Or, you can separate temporarily. Giving this thing a chance to die out before she fully changes."

Before I could respond, Claire stood up.

"Why wait now? They are just going to get right back to what they were doing once their time apart is up. And why risk their happiness to keep her human?"

"Because she's _my_ daughter! And it's her choice whether she wants to move forward or not!" Mrs. Nicole yelled. I could see the fear in her eyes of what her daughter would become. It was easy for her to tolerate what we were. But when it was her daughter who would become one of us... her tone changed immediately.

Claire sat back down, instantly quieted by what had been said. Though, Claire did have a point, and I agreed with her. But right now, it was up to Angela.

"I'm staying with Michael." She said. "If what we have, changes me to make us stronger, then I'll stay."

I wanted to kiss her and throw her on the table after what she said. And after the though, I watched her smile a little.

"Michael?"

I looked at my dad. "It's her choice, and I stand with it."

Though, Mrs. Nicole hated the thought of two seventeen year olds living in the same room, she decided what was best for her daughter, was what would make her happy. And surprisingly, what made her happy, was me. I couldn't believe it when she said so. Though, she did leave quite abruptly, without another word, but to wish her daughter a good night, and a kiss on her forehead.

******************************************************************************

That night was awkward at first as Angela and I tried to change the subject to something else... but that just made everyone a little more uncomfortable. I could still remember their faces when they put it together... what we were doing. And it still makes me laugh, to this day.


	18. New Life Altered

It only took her one week to turn my room from just a place to sleep, into the unique cavalcade of stuff that it is today. Band posters hung on the wall to the point of hostile take over. System of a Down, Disturbed, even (oddly enough) The Ramones hung on the wall that bore the door to our bedroom. Hell, even the door had a few posters on it. The poster for Batman Begins, (She had a thing for Christian Bale, ever since American Psycho), Tools last three cd posters, and a few clippings of artwork from Linkin' Park. As I've said before, hostile take over.

My drawers were no longer, anything goes. Every drawer had it's own contents... which confused me because her room back at her mothers was such a mess that the bed was the only place we could... you know, without me having a pen cap or something lodge in my back.

Her clothes went in the top three, mine in the bottom two. Her clothes rarely prissy. Black jeans, shorts, shirts, with little phrases, symbols, or even pink characters that evoked the goth world, were all taking over my closet. All I had in there anyway was about five pairs of blue jeans, and a couple of random shirts to wear with them. My shorts now lay alone in drawer five of my dresser.

It wasn't even the second night we stayed together, that she took over my bed. It used to be that I had white sheets, two white pillows, and one brown blanket with fallen leaves painted on the top. Sure it was a little weird, but it was the most comfortable blanket in the house! But too her... it was an atrocity. Goodbye sheets, pillows without pillow cases, and comfortable blanket!

Now we had a black and red patterned bed. Everything was either black with red stripes or vice versa. She'd even got me to go out and buy a canopy for the bed, because of the bed posts that were built into the roof and flooring. A great design I might add. It made no noise when I rolled over, or other things... And it was definitely perfect for a newly freed couple such as ourselves.

But then there came the real problem. The bathroom...

I couldn't find my shaving razor Monday morning. We both had school, and she knew that, but it didn't stop her things from taking over my things and apparently, making my things walk the plank onto the floor! But no matter how bad the take over was... I was just glad she was closer to me, and even more so that we could finally sleep in the same bed rather than cut and move every night we were together. I was definitely getting tired of having her body on top of mine, only to have to separate for the rest of the night to avoid suspicion.

But accomadations aside, I had started to notice her changes were finally starting to gain momentum. For instance, her apatite was slow on Monday, but by Friday morning, she was on par with the way I ate. We both scarfed down a handful of Jimmy Dean sausages, four or five eggs, two glasses of orange juice, a glass of milk, two more eggs scrambled, a few biscuits, and before we knew it, Emily and Nick would be knocking on the door flustered. Both angry, asking why we took so long to get ready every morning.

Her scent was everywhere now. Thick and succulent, tempting even when she wasn't around and she knew it. She'd even taken advantage of the fact a couple of times. When I told her about it, she decided it was a good idea to wash all of my (Clean) school shirts, and wear the only one she spared, to bed the night before. It was like smelling bacon, but not being able to see it. It was infuriating.

Also, whether you could call it a good thing or a bad thing, her sense of taste was slowly being altered. Just like me, she started wanting things like Bacon, soft and rare. That tinge of blood that sank into every bite, was exactly what she wanted, and I'll tell you this much... Sex couldn't have been better. I know I keep coming back too it, but things have gone from strange to out of control during that week. We didn't go more than a few hours without it. Even during school, she'd come get me out of class, using some lie like the principal wanted me, or my dad was here to drop off my lunch. After that, we'd either race too the band room on the third floor, where we knew after fourth period, that there was no one there. Or we'd sneak into the elementary portion of the school and have sex in their bathroom during nap time. Either way, it was definitely amazing every time.

But with our affection for each other, there were bound to be people who noticed. The first being Mr. Evangilista. He'd confronted us as the last bell of the day sounded by asking us to stay behind until the class was gone.

We'd gotten a talking too about STD's, teen pregnancy, and all those other things that didn't apply to the two of us. First off, we were practically immune to all viruses except the common cold. Which I thought was funny. We could turn a cancer into a superhero but still can't defeat the common cold.

Secondly, Angela getting pregnant wasn't going to happen. When our bodies decided we were ready for a child, that's when our bodies would start trying. And even then, there was only a one in a million chance we were ever going to have a kid. Besides, we'd already agreed, on the first night we stayed together at my dad's, that if we couldn't, then we'd just adopt. As teens though, the subject didn't really hit home at all.

But after the teacher knew about us, the other teachers smartened up and stopped letting us pull each other out of class. This was Friday that we'd figured this out. And it was definitely a bummer. But then again, we could always wait until we got home. Thing was, that we weren't just being watched. We were being lectured constantly about things that didn't even matter to us.

Which led to the final change. Her instincts were becoming just as bad as my own. I knew she wanted to stalk people just as bad as I did. And she hadn't even gone through her first change yet. And I feared how much the pain would change her. But for now... we were too addicted to each other to care any more about anything.

"See you tomorrow at four-thirty!" Nick yelled, after dropping Angela and I off at the house. Emily waved as the beat up truck backed out of the driveway. They honked as they sped off to wherever and left Angela and I to ourselves.

Claire had left Wednesday, and I really wished she would have stayed a little longer. She was like a mother too me and I always felt like I'd never spent enough time with her when she was around. It always felt like I'd been taking advantage of her time, and I always payed the same price when she left.

My dad, wasn't even home when I entered the unlocked house. "He must've just left." I said entering the empty house. I couldn't smell him, just the feint scent he left behind. I dropped my loaded book bag too the floor, by the coat rack, and Angela did the same.

Her arms came from behind me as she closed the door with her foot. One hand went up and rubbed against the shirt on my chest, the other went south. My heart leapt forward into my chest as she sighed on the back of my neck, and took a soft bite. I shuddered.

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" She whispered, taking another soft bite off the back of my neck.

I nodded, eyes closed, breath held. And she pushed me forward. "Then come get me!" She yelled, speeding past me and up the stairs.

I grabbed at her legs as she passed, missing them by a hair. Scrambling, I followed the sounds of her footsteps up the stairs and right into the doorway... Where she was collapsed onto her knees, breathing hard.

"What's wrong?" I asked, kneeling down behind her. Peering around her, I turned her face toward mine. Her eyes were becoming bloodshot, her face frozen with fear, and she held her clenching stomach.

"Something isn't right!" She whispered between her gasping.

I knew what this was, and I'd hoped it wouldn't happen so soon, but it did, rather, was. She fell forward, catching herself with her left arm. And I knew I had to act fast.

I grabbed her up, and she curled up in my arms. It took me only a few seconds to rush her outside, and only a few more til we were inside the safety of the woods. The knowledge that we couldn't be seen from there was only a minor comfort as I lay her on the small patches of grass, hoping that she wouldn't start screaming.

Pulling off her shirt, was really difficult for me to do. I knew I needed to get her out of her clothes before the change finally started, but between the mixed messages I was sending my body, and the fact that she was fighting to keep the pain down.

When I finally got her shirt off, I decided it was best for both of us to just get rid of the pants and underwear. Seeing as how her bra was held together by two small metal hooks and the strength of it's elastic band, I figured it would just pop off during the change. As long as it wasn't going to suffocate her like Derrick let my shirt do me the first time I changed.

As I unbuttoned her pants and pulled down the zipper, I came to the unsurprising realization that she wasn't wearing panties. I totally forgot what a rush we'd been in that morning! Though, luckily her pants were easy to yank off, especially seeing as how she'd kicked off her shoes before this whole fiasco started.

Instinct made me work on getting off her socks. And what could I say, that smell of her... was like gasoline to a fire.

But before I could get the other one off, I tore myself away. I could barely take it, that smell. And so, realizing my time was up as she started screaming, I left her there. I could tell she wanted me there for moral support, but it'd be over before she knew it, plus, I had to change.

In fear, I started my change right after I got my shirt off and my pants unbuttoned. That's when a small detail arose, and it startled me at first.

I was normally changed. Questions formed on how, but I instantly threw them aside, telling myself that it was probably because I wasn't in danger. And before I knew it, I was kicking off my school pants as a three foot tall, jet black wolf.

The area where I'd left Angela was empty when I got back. It had only been a few seconds that I'd left her there, and she was already gone! My first change took a couple of minutes, and here she was probably faster than I was. Figures!

It didn't take me long to track her down. I knew instantly that she was horrible at hiding her scent, but when I finally caught up with her, I was frozen in awe.

A herd of deer had gathered at the mouth of the lake, taking drink after drink of the water. And instant favorite of every werewolf I'd ever met, deer was a godsend. But that wasn't what held my attention.

Across from the deer, about thirty yards out, she stood. And she was beautiful...


	19. Our Perfection

Her coat was a soft white sheet of snow that covered her crouched body like a soft blanket of beauty. Small splotches of brown scattered around her sides and even freckled her face a little. Those deep green eyes sparkled in the October sun. She was slender and pretty, and knew I was watching. As a matter of fact, she was waving her paw up and down, trying to get my attention. I was too puzzled by the odd movement at first too see it.

Taking my eyes off of her, I looked too the deer. There were four in all. One buck, three does. It wasn't hard to figure out which one we were going to take down. The doe that drank from the water was weak, probably slower than I'd been thinking her too be. She had a small patch of missing hair on her back, probably from some other animal, but it all added up to one thing. She was ours. And with the wind blowing from my left and her right... our being noticed wasn't a problem.

We both waited for them all to get their second sip of water, the male going first obviously. From across the clearing with our new prey, I could see Angela's hind legs trying furiously to settle in the grass. It was an instant sign of anticipation, and a great threat to whether or not we were going to eat real food or take out tonight.

Thankfully, it was our targets turn to drink. She looked around first, spread her front lets, and drank deeply from the lake. And I took off.

Angela followed up right after. The deer spread out, and we let the first three get away within mere nano-seconds. The doe we were after shot away from me, allowing Angela to cut her off and guide her back to the forest where I was quick to block her path.

She had no choice but to jump into the water, and when she did, we both ambushed her. Angela went for the neck, and I gripped her hide with my claws, and sank my teeth into her back. She was dead within seconds, and it was a perfect kill.

******************************************************************************

We both sat in front of the carcass, soaked through to the skin, and covered in drying blood. I gnawed on a torn hind leg. The salty taste of blood and adrenaline that soaked the tough meat was delicious. There was barely any real fat on this doe, and where there was fat, I still tore it from the bone, using my paws as weights to keep it on the ground.

Angela still worked on the meat around the does neck, and she was a bloody mess. It was like watching someone eat bar-b-cue without using their hands. She'd already ripped all the meat from around the ribs and the front two legs, which I thought had to be some kind of record. She was like a piranna how she ripped the meat from bone, her head jerking left-right, left-right until the meat was free.

I cackled a little, making her stop and look up at me. Her white fur was red now, and she looked like such a mess!

She growled at me, knowing why I was laughing, and I growled back playfully.

Even on a full stomach I was ready to fight. It was part of our culture. And I guess that's what instigated this whole mess.

She swiped at my nose, and I tackled her. And we rolled around fighting until we hit the water where she almost drowned me.

Tired and out of breath I pushed her off of me and decided it was time to change back. It was as simple as making yourself sneeze. Just lean your head back and wait for your heartbeat to slow itself down to under a hundred beats per second.

I decided to change away from her, I didn't want her to see me in between forms. It was something that no werewolf wanted. Mainly because of how disturbing and unnatural it was. And so, I changed back, a few yards in the tree line, under the cover of twilight, and afterwards headed back to the lake.

When I came from the forest, I was taken back at how fast she'd changed. But was even more so, by how beautiful she was. Her curvy body, standing in the half-light of the day by the reflective water. Her face, chest and arms were covered in the drying blood that had been left on her skin after her change. And underneath the red glisten of the liquid that had addicted me too her in the first place, was her smile. Small, and knowing. That lovely smile that angels couldn't pull off. The hook that I bit every time I saw it, was now reeling me in once again.

Like when Adam and Eve first met, we stood there naked. Though, we knew what we were, and we knew that this was right. And even though it was just a mere thought, I'd wondered who's image god had made _us_ in.

Angela didn't take long before messing with me as I passed her. She wrapped one of her thin, long legs around mine and pushed. I fell to the ground without a hope of reprieve. She straddled me and kissed me hard, gripping the sides of my face. I did the same. Her hips scraped against my stomach and the both of us share the heat of excitement that preceeded every one of our encounters.

I scratched open one of the many scars on my chest and we broke apart. She bit onto the open wound and stretched across the ground, waiting to taste the warm blood that had once coursed through my veins.

After a short wait she was back up to me, her tongue in my mouth, and the blood satisfying both of our thirsts.

I pushed her head away and pulled her up onto me further so I could bite her neck. The dried blood was just as good as it was earlier. Laced with adrenaline, it was an aphrodisiac unlike any other. My tongue ran across her neck as I tried to pull the red from her fair skin.

She moaned, her fingernails digging under the skin in my chest. I barely felt it, drunk off the adrenaline stirring in my stomach, the passion of her sliding on top of me, and the passionate thrusts that followed. We were both intoxicated on each other.

I rolled over onto her, biting a small cut on her neck. She jumped a little, then pressed my head hard against the wound. This was our love. The scent that radiated from her long, gorgeous, black hair, and the smell of blood drove me to push harder, faster, making her writhe on the ground.

"I love you." I whispered in her ear.

Her eyes were closed, her lips cold as I kissed them. And when I pulled away from her, she gasped. "I love you too..."

This was our perfection.


	20. Good Day

That night I went to bed around six-thirty. I had to get _some _sleep before I went to work the next morning, especially since Nick and I had to cancel last weeks work days, for reasons we couldn't disclose with our employer. He wasn't too angry about it anyway, seeing as how we'd brought him more than enough money to cover two days of extra work. He bid us God bless, and took the two days off himself.

I was also pleased that Angela was so tired from earlier, that she practically passed out as soon as we got back inside. Seeing as how my dad was now home though, we had to put on clothes before going inside. It wasn't a bummer for me, but after her first change, her first take down, then eating half a full grown deer, and then sex... she was quick to complain that she was aching. As was her right.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!!! The alarm screeched in my ear. My hand rose from underneath the covers and without looking, I pressed the snooze button. I wouldn't call it skill, because the snooze button on my alarm clock was the entire top of it! Which is great when you are really out of it. Plus the fact that this would make three months of having this job... It had become a habit, secluded only to the weekend.

Slinking out of bed, I started dragging the blanket with me. Angela mumbled something, reminding me that she was now living with me, and I apologized half-awake. Eyes closed, I fished around in my bottom drawer for a pair of underwear and shorts.

I yawned, opened my eyes, and saw that I'd grabbed my cargo shorts, my favorites. I put them on, stuffed a pack of Camel's that Claire had left behind for me, just in case, and a lighter.

The phone rang on my dresser. I'd almost forgot that I brought the cordless phone in here before going to bed. Just so I didn't have to track it down when Nick called to make sure I was awake. What could I say, he was much more responsible than me.

"Hello?" I said into the plastic receiver.

"Hey Michael? You up?" Nick asked over the phone.

"Yeah?"

"I hope you're ready, cause Uncle Gary just called me and said he's having trouble with the engine, so we've got to hurry up and get down there now."

I hated being rushed.

******************************************************************************

I stood on the porch, cigarette lit, and patiently waited with my bag of treats slung on my back. The half-empty pack of smokes hung aside my lighter in my right cargo pocket of my shorts. I decided to where a thin brown work shirt. It made me look a little less like a kid, with my shrimp boots, and more of a worker.

My gloves, my oyster knife, all that stuff was on the boat. A fact that was discovered after furiously searching for them in my room for the past ten minutes.

Nick's truck sped into the driveway, and I held the cigarette tightly as I raced over too his truck, tore open the door, hopped in, and took off. I choked a little on the second hand smoke as I fought trying to roll down the window. Everything was a pain in the ass in this truck.

"I thought we needed to be in a hurry?" I said, noting that it took him longer to get to my house than normal.

"Well, leaving Emily at my parent's house would have been rude."

I almost didn't catch it. But then I saw him smile.

"You dog!" I yelled before congratulating him. "Well, I can't say I don't know the feeling."

We shared a laugh and a final cigarette as we made our way down the dark roads to the Delta Marine.

******************************************************************************

"Well, that aught to fix it!" Mr. Gary yelled from down in the engine room. It was more of a closet under the deck covered up by a perfectly cut, thick, piece of plywood. As he climbed out, Nick grabbed his hand, and I lowered the door on it's hinges until it was flush with the deck.

"What was our time?" Nick asked.

"We only lost about twenty minutes of work time. Not to bad considering the fact that the damn spark plug was so stubborn this morning." Mr. Gary complained.

"Think we should gas up?" I asked.

"Do plants need water?" He asked raising his left eyebrow. The man knew how to make me laugh, I'll give him that. He also knew how to keep people from getting offended by what he said.

"I guess they do."

The gas pump was a lot quicker this morning. I figured that they must've just topped off the tank earlier that morning. Really, it was an ideal morning. The air was warm and soothing, the scent around the dock, stronger than ever. So many things were going right that morning, that it almost didn't feel real. Aside from only losing twenty minutes of work, the gas pump was quick, Arty, the clerk at the convenient store that I went to every day before work, gave me a free pack of smokes with the pack that I'd bought... he said it was for the extra business, and if he knew that they would never kill me, I think he would have given me two.

Once we got out on the water, and pulled up our first dredge, we were treated to like four crabs right off the bat of the day! And eight-four sacks later, we had a little over two buckets full of crabs.

"This is the life." Nick said, taking the lid off the crayfish pot to see if it was ready for the crabs. And by the look he gave me when the steam and seasoning hit his face, I was quick to say it was. "God! That shit is strong!" He yelled.

Mr. Gary laughed silently behind the windshield of the cabin. We were playing some soft B.B. King as we cruised back towards the docks. By the time we got there, they were done. Which was just, frigging perfect.

As Nick and I unloaded the boat, Mr. Gary was quick to scarf down two crabs. Nick bickered with him, trying to slow the old man down. And where as it worked slightly... it was only slightly.

People that we knew that hung around the dock after work gathered around and shared a few crabs with us as Mr. Gary went to go get our pay checks. And as we sat around shooting the bull with each other I noticed Mr. Gary coming out of the shipping warehouse, checks in hand. But he also held a pained look in his face.

"Hey, Mr. Gary! You okay?" I yelled over to him. He looked up, gave a smile and waved, nodding.

I hoped so.

******************************************************************************

Another day, another eighty dollars. I thought as Nick sped off back to his house. He was going to go change, he said, then he'd be right back. I hadn't had anything planned for the rest of the day, so whatever it was, I hoped we could bring the girls.

There was a note on the front door. I'd noticed it when I got to the porch. And ripping it off the door handle, and setting my bag on the ground, I read it.

Hey Michael,

Went to see my mom for the day. Your dad went out to go pick up Derrick and Wilson from the Airport. I also made lunch for you, but burned it pretty bad, so you're going to have to make something. Love you!!!

I laughed when I thought of her cooking. It was like a bull trying to juggle marbles, something that always ended badly. But it was still funny. If only she took it as a joke when I made fun of her about it.

Oh, well... Cooking was my thing anyway. And shedding my dirty shirt onto the floor on top of my bag, I made my way to the kitchen. I was starving, and food always came before food!

Throwing a skillet on the oven, I poured about two teaspoons worth of cooking oil over it and pulled some ground meat that I'd been letting defrost in the fridge while I was at work. The oil sizzled over the quickly heating metal pan, and as soon as it was hot enough, I got to work.

******************************************************************************

Hamburger helper was my specialty for two reasons: One, it tasted good. Two, it took me only thirty minutes to cook. If it weren't for Hamburger helper, I wouldn't even cook. Cereal and macaroni and cheese would be my daily meal that I made. And so, in a way, I owe my life to hamburger helper. Because alone, I'd starve without it.

As soon as I'd finished eating, I got a knock on my door. And peering through the eye hole in the thick wooden door I could see Nick standing there, holding a lot of groceries.

"What is all this?" I asked him as I opened the door. I saw meat... lots of meat in these bags.

"We're bar-b-cuing!" He said raising up the groceries. I did the same, as excitement filled me. It was long over due that we did something like this.

Emily was brooding over near the stairs behind him though. So my excitement was short lived, and I guess he saw it so he decided to fill me in.

"Emily and Angela got into a fight earlier." He said, "Don't worry about it. Lets just get this stuff on the grill."

I agreed with him, and beckoned them in, Emily didn't even look at me. I knew this had to do with her moving in with me, and Emily being left behind.

"So where's Angela," I asked Nick.

"She'll be coming by later."

******************************************************************************

When my dad and them finally got back from the air port, they were quickly drawn out to the back yard.

"What's all this?" My dad asked smiling as he saw the endless ribs. There were steaks, patties, wings... everything. And even though I told him twice, I did have to say that this was extremely generous of Nick and Emily.

"We thought since you guys are finally back from Peru, that you'd like to bar-b-cue!" Nick said, waving the tongs he was cooking with as he talked. I decided to ride shotgun on this meal and just enjoy the results.

"Thanks, you guys!" Derrick said, eager to dig into the ribs that were now cooking.

"Yeah, thanks!" Wilson followed.


	21. Chance

Once the food was cooked, I called over at Mrs. Nicole's house, and beckoned Angela to bring her mom over. That's when Angela told me about the fight between her and Emily. And what it all came down too, was that Emily was mad at her for leaving her mother the way she did. Angela was instantly furious, and told Emily that she was just jealous that she was branching out before her older cousin. Even though they were only half a year apart.

That's when Emily called Angela a whore, and then left to go see Nick. And to be honest, I think Nick was right when he said I shouldn't worry about it.

"I'm trying to make my mom see that I'm not abandoning her, and Emily starts on and on about why I should have stayed here with them!" She yelled over the phone. "Like that was a choice!"

It hurt a little when she said that. Because the way I interpreted it, was that she was force to come here. Forced to love me.

"No, hun. It's not like that, and you know it." She knew just what to say.

"And that's why we're perfect for each other." I said. She agreed.

"So when are you coming home?" I asked. Hoping she'd say now. But knowing she wouldn't. She had to make sure her mom knew what this was.

"Later. I want to talk to my mom a little while longer." She said, confirming my suspicions. Over the past few days, it's been a little easier to figure her out. What she wanted, what she was going to say. I guess that's just our instincts coming together.

"Stay as long as you want bae... but we _are_ bar-b-cuing right now, and it _is_ done." She laughed as I kept tempting her. "So hurry before we eat it all."

"Kay, love you."

"I love you too, bae. Get home safe!"

******************************************************************************

"Tell them that story about when the Wilkins family came to stay!" Derrick yelled at my dad. I hated this story, but as we all gathered around a big bon fire in the back yard, everyone laughed and was ready to laugh some more. My dad, who'd just got done telling everybody, including Angela, about all the times that I bothered our guests and how often I got in trouble.

"Nooo!" I complained. "That's embarrassing!" I really didn't like this story.

"Well, that's the point of telling it." Wilson laughed. "Besides, it's your own fault!"

"Alright. Alright, everyone, quiet down. This is the last one, then I'm going to bed." He said, finishing off his last beer. We'd dragged the wicker chairs from the front and now, everyone had theirs dragged up close to my dad. I'd kept my spot in the back, near the fire because every, single, story was about me!

"So this couple and their two daughters comes down from Georgia, heading to Texas, and they needed a place to stay for the night. And so we give them a room, and they pack it in for the night." Derrick laughed in anticipation. "Don't get ahead of me."

"So that night. When I finally got Michael in his room, and into bed, I'd thought we'd gotten lucky and he _actually_ went to bed! Well come to find out, he had climbed out of his window.. he's about ten during all this.. and so he's curious about the neighbors. Like having a cat in the damn house." A few snickers were being choked down in the small crowd. Angela, who I could see, looked to be struggling not to laugh.

"And so, he's on the roof, and that night the fruit bats were out. It was the middle of summer. And with him sneaking around the roof, at tree level, they swarm him. And... he... Freaks!"

Everyone burst into laughter.

"I'd never heard anyone scream like that, ever! And when everyone comes outside, we spot him. Upside down, his shirt over his head, and he's stuck in a tree, screaming that the bat's blinded him!"

Angela was in stitches, along with Nick and Emily. Derrick looked to me, and I truly though that after hearing the story a second time, that he couldn't believe it at all!

The night sky filled with laughter, and before anyone could ask for another story, my dad was inside, and readying himself for sleep. Everyone else seemed to yawn and start off into the house, and soon afterwards, only Nick, Emily, Angela, and I were left alone to clean up.

Of course, Emily and Angela weren't anywhere near the other.

Nick and I were constantly passing each other as we brought the whicker chairs back to the front porch, while the girls cleaned up around the grill. And once the back yard was cleaned, Nick and Emily announced their departure, Angela and I bid them farewell and then put out the fire.

******************************************************************************

The phone rang.

I hit the snooze button, thinking my alarm had gone off. And when nothing happened, I bolted up in my bed, almost awaking Angela. 'Am I late!' I thought.

Diving off the bed and to the cabinet after the third ring, I smashed the green button in a hurry and spoke. "Hello?" I asked, looking to my clock.

"Michael?" Nick asked, a sad tone hung in his voice. And looking to the clock to see it was a little past two in the morning, I knew something was wrong.

"What's up, man?" I asked.

There was a small silence over the phone. Then, "Uncle Gary had a heart attack last night."

"Is he alright?" I asked, fear prickling me in the chest. I couldn't imagine not seeing him later that morning. Thoughts of that pained look on his face flashed over my conscious. "Did he make it?"

"He died."

It's a sobering thing when someone dies. So sobering, that most people remember exactly what they were doing when they heard the bad news. They remember where they were, even what time it was.

I could tell he was crying over the phone. The way he sniffed every couple of seconds, his quivering, sad voice. I was surprised that I didn't catch it earlier.

"Oh, God... I'm sorry, man..."

"No... no. My aunt is catching the worst of it. She didn't even know he was dead until she tried to get him to go to bed." He said. I could feintly hear the lapping of water against land over the phone.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"The boat." He replied. "You want me to come pick you up?"

"No, I'll be over there in a few minutes."

"Kay, later man." He said, hanging up.

"Later."

******************************************************************************

You don't know uncomfortable until you pack a change of clothes into a back pack, change, and then run the ten miles to go see your friend. I complained the entire time as I ran. The bag slid back and forth over my shoulders, barely staying on, and I wasn't about to carry it in my mouth, cause I'd trip over that the second I tried running.

Though. All of this running was much safer than asking my possibly drunken friend to come pick me up in his, less than reliable truck. Besides, it woke me up.

By the time I got there, I'd been getting weird looks from the dock drunks, people who lived hear the docks so they could stumble to work the next day. I kind of saw them as zombies, and I knew I was wrong for it. But the fact was, I did look unnatural even for wolf standards. The eyes were the biggest give away. Plus the fact that we had posable thumbs. We were about as big as your average Great Dane, and we were more conscious about our surroundings. Looking both ways before crossing the street, opening doors, that sort of thing.

As I tracked down Mr. Gary's boat, I couldn't help but feel like I _should_ be here. It was an odd feeling. Something someone might call, a feeling of fate.

Nick reeled back as I boarded, and I went around the side of the boat, opened the cabin door, and changed in the dark room. Though, when I came out, wearing the blue jean shorts and Jimmy Hendrix shirt I'd packed before my trip, he seemed relieved.

"Will you tell me when your going to do stuff like that! It's creepy!" He yelled at me. Making me smile a little.

"Yeah. Sorry, but I didn't want you to come get me," I said, pointing at his beer. "And have you risk your life as well."

"Thanks for the thought."

"I had a lot of time to think while trying to get here." I said, lighting a cigarette, offering him one. He refused and took out a pack of his own.

"Oh, yeah. What about?" He said, lighting his own.

"Let's work the boat for your Aunt."

He laughed. "My aunt doesn't know anything about oyster fishing!"

"Exactly. So with our help, we can keep your aunt from falling behind, and still have our jobs. I know how you and Emily want to get a place of yall's own." I pleaded with him. I really didn't want him to lose his hope.

"My Aunt is selling the boat."

"We'll buy it from her."

"She wants a lot for it."

"We'll get a loan?"

"How, Michael!? We're two teens underage, we can't even buy cigarettes unless we know the casheir!" He yelled, tossing his finished cigarette into the water, angrily.

"I can get us the loan."

"Who do you know, that can get us a loan?"

******************************************************************************

"Dad..." I said, my head sticking in his doorway. No response. "Da.. Dammit."

I took off my sock and threw it into his bed, that woke him.

Violently he grabbed the sock like it was a bomb and threw it to the floor, yelling in surprise.

"Shhhh!" I said, hoping he didn't wake anyone else.

"Michael??? What time is it?"

"Four in the morning. Hey, I need you to get me a loan."

Silence passed between us as I watched him slowly drift back asleep. "I will throw another sock." I warned.

"Dammit... I'll be out in a minute. Let me get dressed and we'll talk about it."


	22. Money

Nick sat next to me, finally sobered up, on the couch, and my dad sat in the arm chair across from us. Nick and I were leant forward, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he just sat there. He did this a lot when I asked him about something. It's the main reason I don't have my license and a car right now.

He rubbed his eyes, truly trying to wake himself up. "You want me... to get you a loan... for fifteen grand?" He said, again.

"Yes... that would be nice." I said, mocking his being tired.

"Don't start with me, Michael." He warned. "It's six hours before the banks even open, and you wake me up... why?"

"Because I knew that you won't just let us have this."

He eyed me, then looked to Nick. "Do you two even have a lot to dredge out there?"

"My aunt said that if we buy the boat, we can have the lot." Nick replied. And when we saw him lean back in his chair, we both fell back in ours. 'Oh, God!' It was like being at the DMV. I wanted to snap my fingers to grab his attention again, but I knew it would hurt our chances.

"Look." He said. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I really think you two should be thinking about school, rather than worrying about your jobs."

I could tell that this was getting to Nick.

"And again, I'm sorry about your Uncle, Nick, but I don't want this to become all you two ever do. You have to think about the long run, the both of you. And Nick, you pretty much like a son to me. I can't have you, or Michael, wasting your lives here."

"Mr. Thomas, if we get this boat, we are going to be able to go to college. And even if it's online, we are going to do something. But for now, Emily and I are trying our damndest to get a place of our own, and we can't do that without a job. And with this... We can start our lives easier than we ever could behind a grill at McDonald's, or in some dinky convenient store."

My dad sighed.

"I have, over twenty grand, saved away for Michael to go to college."

I smiled.

"Wait. I'm not finished." He said. "I want you two to still go to school."

"Fred Parker, and Neil Fisher are my uncles deck-hands. They said they'd take over the weekdays and they'd swap out as captain until Michael and I can get our licenses."

"You've already talked to these people?" He said, admiring the initiative that we'd had this morning. "Nice, go on."

"They agreed," I said, "that if we split the profits between the people who worked each day, evenly, that they'd work until we got out of school in may. After that, they'll continue to work for us, alternating between days until they can get a boat of their own."

"What about insurance, and the yearly renewal of the lot?" He asked.

"That percentage will be taken out of our cuts."

My dad rubbed his eyes. He was really tired, which bothered me because I'd been up longer. And it wasn't really helping that he was still debating it in his mind.

"If you cover every angle, by the time the bank opens, and that includes written contracts from each person involved, especially your Aunt's." He said looking to nick. "Then the money's yours. But," He said before Nick and I could celebrate. "If you don't get this done, then that means you get nothing." Our smiles started to show a little too much. And as my dad rose from his seat and looked back at us... he saw that we weren't going anywhere.

"Do you have all of that stuff?" He said.

"Y-yes." I said, trying not to laugh, as I pulled the papers out from under the couch. "We've even got one for you, just in case."

Nick bursted out laughing. "We got a boat!"

My dad, sat down, grabbed the papers from my hands and sat back down.

"Got a pen?" He asked. And when I pulled one from my pocket, he laughed.

"You guys are too much..."

******************************************************************************

That week of school was intensely boring. Even Angela felt the drag of each day as our first real workday approached. She was so excited for the two of us when we told her, and definitely relieved to hear that we had people to help us out while we were at school. Fred and Neil called Nicks cell phone with the details to each day's catch. They even agreed to cut a bill (One hundred dollars) from each paycheck to help take care of the insurance on the boat. They were so kind to Nick and I. Fred even volunteered to give Nick and I lessons on driving the boat. Nick knew already... all he needed was the license which he was waiting until he was old enough, to get it.

I on the other hand was a little less proficient, and after a few days on the boat after school, figured it was best if Nick drove when we got it all situated. It wasn't the driving that got me...it was the damned engine! Nick knew everything about that engine, down to each and every bolt. He knew nomenclature, and he knew how everything worked. That's where I failed... I was... not mechanic material.

Though, I did know how the dredge worked. It was essentially an engine with a rotor that pulled a chain in and out to lift and drop the dredge (the net with the metal frame.)

And before we knew it, we were working our first weekend. Fred had already gassed up like he did during the week and had the boat running in pristine condition when we came out of the convenient store.

"Here's your smokes!" I said opening the cabin door and tossing them to Neil. He was a big, burly man, with a giant beard. He looked like Santa Clause if he were a boat captain.

"Thanks, Mike. Yall two set?" He said, his big voice only made me more giddy to get going. In all reality I did feel like a school girl. And I'm not ashamed about it. I co-owned a boat that was going to bring in around seven hundred dollars in one day!

"Yep. Let's get going." Nick said, closing the cabin, and sliding his work bag under one of the bunk beds.

******************************************************************************

When your pay check triples, you feel invincible. This was my first real pay check. Before this, I was making eighty dollars a day. Here, it was two hundred, thirty eight dollars, and sixty-six cents! That's a jump. And that was also for one days amount of work. You didn't beat that at my age! And it was almost a tragedy when I watched that money have to be put away into my new bank account.

My father had made it quite clear too the both of us, that every cent was to go into the bank before use. And our bank, was the Mississippi River Bank. A local bank that was only a ten minute drive away from the docks, in the opposite direction of my house.

I'd also sold my Jet-ski that week... because we used it once, and... that was it. I figured it'd help us out, why not? What was great was that I'd gotten only a hundred dollars less than what I'd payed for it. So when I checked my account before we left the bank, I got to see the satisfying sight of one thousand, thirty eight dollars, and sixty-six cents.

"This is definitely the start of something beautiful." I said to Nick as I pocketed the small receipt.

"Yep."


	23. Execution

My name is Dane Nathaniel Thomas. And tonight I will be murdered. And though I know how, and when... I can do nothing to change the fact that I need to die. The lives I've taken, the damage I've done to the world, the plague that gave the fear of my name birth... these things have all contributed to my infamous reputation. The packs beyond my own call me the Child of Death, Saint Dane... and for a while... I liked it.

But then came my son. Out from the past, a scrapping little runt who survived one of the worse environments I could imagine. And he did so, unscathed, making me proud. He was just a lonely human boy, just trying to survive his once beautiful mother... I guess her hatred for me ran deeper than my blood...

I always wondered how having a son would be, even if his mother wasn't around. But then I'd just wave it off, telling myself that no one would ever want my touch ever again for what I did, what I'd become. Even though the plague in me had died long ago... people never change...

Surprised at the scent of him when I returned home from killing the only contact I had too my son, my anxiety overwhelmed me. I'd been so cruel, as to threaten the life of my own son, just too scare away Claire. Her and her hatred for me... like every other woman in my life. Melissa, Claire, Nicole... They all hated me after my little war was over... but there was nothing I could do about that now.

Now, I had a son. I wasn't worried about anything other than him, and his safety. And when he'd told me about this witch who was driving him insane at that God-forsaken camp, I lost it. I was ready too kill that man. I wanted to shove his head into his neck, and push it through his chest for even thinking about pulling that gun out. And just as I went too, Michael surprised me. That compassion he had... I mistook it for fear when I first saw it in him. But after protecting a man who wanted him dead... Changed everything.

He was spastic, energetic, and always dove head first into what ever came his way, when he was a kid. And in the ten years I'd known him... nothing changed. Every little thing he did, buying a jet ski, getting a job without me asking... even his little affair with the Fairbanks girl, took me by surprise. And just thinking about it, made me laugh. Too bad it'd be my last.

My son and his mate both took off about an hour ago, and I made sure to tell them both I loved them. The look on my son's face was priceless, like he'd never heard it before, and Angela gave me a hug. It's subtle things like that, that make me regret the life I'd lived. The past I'd left behind, so that those I loved would live on. I guess it is my fault, that I'll die here tonight.

With Nick and Emily going trick-or-treating with them, I hadn't anything to worry about. Derrick and my brother now getting drunk at the docks with Derrick's co-workers. And I was sure they weren't going to be home for quite some time. Everyone was gone, and everyone was safe.

I took a long, drought of the Bourbon I'd poured myself after everyone was gone. I stirred a little Coke Cola with it, and sat back in my Sun Room. It truly was my favorite room. Filled to the brim with the books I'd read over and over during my time here on earth. I read here, I sometimes slept here, and this was where Michael was conceived. This room was everything to me, and I might as well die in it.

Tonight's selection for my final read, was a small journal I'd kept during the war. Some might have said it was my greatest accomplishment. I thought it the exact opposite. Death wasn't an accomplishment, as Michael had taught me. It was a tragedy. And scribbled across this little book, were the words, "God, Forgive Me..."

It's thin, red binding wrapped around the book loosely now, like a blanket for it's cover and spine. The pages were yellow and grey from age, and the handwriting was a little blurry. I wasn't sure whether or not it was because of my drinking, or because of the easily spreadable lead I'd used to write in it. Neither would have surprised me.

As I flipped through the pages looking for my favorite quote, I heard the front door slide open slowly. Footsteps drew nearer and nearer to the door and my heart began to beat faster and faster. My fingers slid through the pages like the legs of an Olympic Runner. Pages flew as my murderer sniffed out my scent and tracked me to the room beyond the kitchen.

Page thirty-six finally revealed itself as the page I'd been looking for, and as I heard him enter the room, I read it aloud.

"War is hell."

The barrel fixated itself to the back of my head, "And what's wrong with hell?" He said.

The trigger reeled back.

My fear became cloaked with euphoria.

The shell primed...

And then there was black. No sights, no sounds... just black...


	24. Insanity

"Michael..." Angela's voice was calm, and yet... so distraught. Her arm draped over my shoulders like the comfort of the sun. So warm, so loving. But it wouldn't be enough to pull me from this stupor.

Clutched in my crossed arms, was a small, red book. It barely fit between the gaps of my lanky arms, fumbling between my forearms and sliding against my sweat...

"Michael... please, say something." She pleaded. Her soft, green eyes gazed into my own as she tried to get my attention. Like the plains of field overtaken by then emerald, wave-like grass, her eyes peered into my face, as if she was trying to read me. Her forehead touched mine as she sat closer, edging into me until she buried my face in her chest.

Shaking, trying to hold back the tears from what I'd come home too... I embraced her. My arms felt fragile as they shook around her waste. The small book that had the words, "God, Forgive Me" on it, had fallen to my side. I hadn't even opened it. I hadn't even thought of it. All I could do here, was try not to feel anything.

The image of my father's lifeless body leaning back in that chair... his face... his face, gone...

I felt her tears fall into my hair as she held me forward, though she didn't make a sound.

"Michael." Came a stern voice from the doorway of my father's sun room.

Ever since we'd discovered the body... no one has entered but me... and my comforting efforts to coax me out, was thwarted by Angela's threatening stares sent to them to leave me alone. And I was grateful, though, at the time... I couldn't feel it.

"I just want to know if you're o-okay." Wilson pleaded from the doorway, his voice cracking a little.

My head was spinning. I couldn't remember how to talk. Sentances, phrases... these things became fragments, lost in my psyche and hidden by grief. His words barely made sense to me, and then after hearing his question echo in my mind, I'd found myself repeating it back to him, over and over.

"If I'm okay... I'm okay???" Weak and deliberately low, the words seeped from my mouth like an open wound. I could feel my lips drying and coagulating, scabbing over, and sewing themselves shut.

"_Leave now!_" Angela hissed, her hands covering my ears... as though that helped. "He doesn't need this!"

A warm scent washed over the room, something I'd been too shocked to catch when I'd gotten home. It was musky, but still warm. It was familiar... so familiar.

"He also doesn't need to be cooped up in a dark room with a dead body!" He snapped back at her. His voice sounded as if it had been pushed through clenched teeth, making me think of how water filters through river rocks. Rolling over it and then sifting through the cracks and holes. _There are so many holes... so many holes..._ I thought to myself.

That scent started to spark memories like a lit match to a gallon of gasoline. Thoughts of ghosts and ghost stories. Thoughts of camp fires and gun fire. Thoughts of a haunted night...

"Just give us some time t-" Angela became very quiet. And I'd have never known what had quieted her, if I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes.

That scent, had driven me from the floor. It squeezed my fists until my half-eaten nails dug cuts into my hard palms. It lifted my head in the darkness, and suddenly, the scent wasn't a scent at all anymore.

A thin red line had appeared to me in the darkness. The line swirled apart in places, like an uprising wind in the mist, and came back together. I didn't know what to think of it... but still, it drove me forward.

Each footstep was slowed to a crawl, and each revealed a small memory of my past... a small tragedy.

I thought of _him_. So funny how I'd have never noticed if his daughter wasn't in the room adjacent to the one where _my_ father lay dead in his favorite chair.

Memories of Emily, flickered in fragments across lazy eyes. And like a zombie seeking out flesh, I stalked... hungrily. Step. I saw her leaning against that old shack, the cold, grey legs of her illusion stepping before my half-conscious eyes.

Step. Seymour boasted about his fire starting skills, piling bits of wood and sticks into the fire pit as he continued. Turn. My hand gripped the doorway, and I softly put my hand against Wilson's chest, maneuvering him out of the way as politely as possible.

"Michael?" His voice sounded concerned, and caught the attention of Nick and Emily. They sat apart, with Nick on the couch against the wall, his eyes red, his knuckles white. Emily had stood up at my arrival from my depressing dungeon. Her eyes weren't as red... she must've been crying just because...

I thought of her and her father, sitting across from each other. Their movements were that of strangers, both exchanging looks. It was right before I'd told them I knew better. I don't know why I thought of that memory, but I did. And as I sighed, and rubbed the tears out of my eyes, I contemplated what I had to do to know...

I heard Angela gasp behind me as she finally got back into my mind. Before, I was frantic and wrought with many emotions, but now there was only one. And it was all aimed and ready for what I was going to do with it.

"NO! MICHAEL!!!" Angela yelled. But I was just a step quicker. I could barely feel the breeze from her hand swiping behind me. Wilson was none the wiser about what I was about to do. And as I bolted by him, everything went black and white, slowing down to a crawl. Nick was barely off the couch, diving towards Emily as I passed him. My hand drove his face into the window behind the couch. I hadn't even known that I was screaming.

Then it snapped back into regular time.

I snatched Emily up with my right hand, and drove her to the opposite side of the room. The furniture around us seemed to part politely as we blew past them. I tried my hardest to keep my hand from snapping her head from her neck.

She slammed against the entertainment center, and it splintered from the impact.

"WHERE IS HE!?" I yelled, my voice croaky and half changed. The summit of a growl followed my words, along with the sound of her gasping. Her legs kicked around me... just like old times.

When she didn't answer, I struck the wall next too her head. My hand blackened and menacingly threatening. My claws penetrated through the drywall, and I ripped it down, tearing out a huge chunk of the wall, along with a stud.

"I... d-don't-- know!" She gasped through my grip. I could feel her trying too swallow, and under that, her heart beat. Something made me let go of her, and slung me across the room into the kitchen. I didn't fight it.

Angela was over me now, bleeding. In a quick motion, she scribbled a small letter on my forehead, and I was paralyzed... and fading out of reality...

******************************************************************************

Everything spun. The red in my closed eyelids spun, the piercing, white splotches across my eyes spun. My stomach spun. The only thing that didn't seem to spin, were my thoughts.

_What had I done??? I could have killed her... _Morose pain filled my heart at the furious outburst that seemed to have happened before my eyes. I felt as though I couldn't control it, but deep down, even as I sighed in assurance... I knew what I was doing...

I awoke screaming. Praying my horrible memory was a nightmare... hoping that when I adjusted to the bright light of the morning sun, peering through the window, that I'd be okay... that everyone would be okay... that my father...

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Vomiting almost instantly at the smell, I knew that my nightmare was real. Decomposing in the room next too me was my father. And alone, feeling beaten and forgotten... was me. I pushed myself up from the kitchen floor, wincing at the searing pain in my

Memories started to flash across my eyes, burning them, torturing them. My hands found their way to my horrified face... My mouth was agape, my eyes full of tears... I screamed.

It brought me too my knees... the amount of force that was behind it. It didn't even feel like me, mourning on the floor, propped up with one weak, left arm. To my right was a small pool of vomit, and it almost made sick again. Rather, it would have, if I weren't still screaming.

The horrible ache of my soul sounded through the house, over and over. My lungs felt like a beaten rug tossed into an oven. It made my voice rasp more and more with each howl, and before I knew it, I was climbing to my feet. My breathing was harder than it ever was. _They left me..._

My right hand gripped the soft, smooth, marble counter top of the new kitchen island. Something ground up helped me keep from sliding back down as I pulled at the smooth surface. _They left me..._

A constant puffing came from my throat, keeping mildly numb to what my body, was refusing I do. My legs shook as I tried to stand, my stomach lurched, and all the while, my voice crackled and whined. _They left me... all of them..._

My mind was furious at how my body was acting. Weakly trying to keep me down... I was infuriated. They'd just left me there, like some sick _dog_! It left me with a burning hate in my chest, at everything around me.

I reached back, and despite my horrible condition, I managed to rip the refrigerator from it's cubicle in the kitchen wall, and send it sailing into the wall where the splintered entertainment center now rest in pieces. My arms didn't feel sore afterwards either. But it wasn't like my tantrum had helped me either. Before I knew it, I was screaming again. Though this time, I screamed her name.

"ANGELA!!!"

Over and over it rang in my head, forcing me to rip out my own hair from my head in a moment of hysteria. She had left me there... to suffer.

******************************************************************************

I destroyed the better part of the kitchen within seconds. And yet, now, I found myself in the living room. Kneeling down by the fridge, sifting through the lopsided mess I'd created when I threw it. I was starving, and delirious. Time didn't seem real to me, though nothing else did either. I was at one with my supposed "Non-Existance". It left me quiet, and dead as I shuffled around the decimated room.

"I don't want to cook," I said to myself, eyes peering through the mess in the laziest of ways. "I want to cook..."

I'd confused myself for a second, staring into the spilled milk. Bit's of lettuce had spilled out of their bag and floated along the solid white swimming pool. I found myself thinking about sand, and water, then... of her.

Someone was at the door. Their footsteps were closing the gap between the steps and the door, and I curiously walked right up too it.

I opened the door before the guest had time too knock, and was greeted by a shotgun barrel too the face.

All I remember after my shock, was a small, red bean-bag shaped bullet being fired point blank, into my face.

A lot afterwards was a blur. Just some snickering between two older men, and the feeling that someone was holding my head in her lap... Stroking my hair, and telling me that she'd help me through this... _I love my Angela_...


	25. Heir

I sat alone in my cell.

Across from me, beyond the silver bars, leaning against the dreadfully grey, stone wall... was my grandfather. Marcus. His full head of hair was exactly like my own fathers. Swayed back on top, cut military short around the sides. Wrinkles formed in his brow every time I looked up at him.

Beside him. Were two people, who I knew all too well. Angela, who sat patiently in a rusted, worn chair, leant against the bars to my cell. Pleading with me too look at her. I couldn't. But that didn't stop her from repeating herself every time I shifted on my damp bed.

It still smelt like the cold sweat I'd awoken too. The dank stench seemed to make the mattress, that much harder to keep from shifting around where I sat. I couldn't seem to keep away from the seat without moving into the light.

The shadow from the angled roof of my cell seemed to start just at my feet. A feint privacy I didn't deserve. I knew I was to be locked up for what I'd almost done. I deserved to be treated like an animal... a monster.

Emily seemed to agree with me, glaring from the right of Marcus like the victim I'd turned her into. She had every right to hate me. And even though, her father had been the one to kill mine... I still couldn't help but apologize.

"I'm sorry..."

The words went unnoticed by the two leaning souls peering in at me.

My grandfather had informed me that they had caught and killed Seymour before coming to capture me. His death, didn't solve a single problem of mine. Instead, it just left me more and more desolate.

The two moved as one too leave me there in my cell. And Angela, as she did for the past two days, stayed behind. She was just as locked up as I was...

"They won't let you out, until you say something." She said, wiping the tears from her eyes once more. "They won't let us be together."

"You don't need another monster in your life." I said, forsaking everything my heart had ever taught me.

She seemed surprised that I'd finally said something too her.

"Michael." Her soft, grief ridded voice struck a cord in my head. And I began to feel dizzy.

"Angela." I said. "Leave me here."

"No." It wasn't a plea. It was a declaration. A soft, heartfelt, declaration. The such that made me look up at her. She was hell bent, I could feel it. Something that had been building in me since the first time we shared each other's skin. Every day seemed to make me more and more attuned to her thoughts, and her emotions. Neither of us knew what was happening... and back then, neither of us cared.

"So now you decide to talk!" I heard a yell come from somewhere beyond my vision. Marcus had wheeled around in mid stride. I probably should have waited until I heard the prison doors shut.

Cursing under my breath, I waited for those dark brown eyes to come around and face me through the bars. The first day I'd been in here, he'd reamed me pretty hard about control. He must've seen what I'd done to the house.

You see, I had originally thought Marcus to be a lone shark, of sorts. Living off some kind of allowance, angry when his money was dipped into. I couldn't have been more wrong.

This prison, where I now resided in my little, tormented head, was a mansion. Sedated and half-crazed, Marcus had flown me, Angela, and the other four, straight to Canada. I'd only glanced at it once, as they wheeled me through a crowd of endless eyes, and my exact thought, was that the white house wasn't nearly as big. He owned this land, and the endless forest that surrounded it. He was an alpha, like no other.

He housed lost souls with our unique abilities, and those of the sort. The people who'd been watching me, strapped in a wheel chair, half-alive, were all werewolves. And those that weren't, were just as different.

But that wasn't what was on my mind right now. Right now, I watched as he wheeled around the corner, his thick hand gripping the metal bar nearest too the wall.

"Don't you shut me out, Michael!" He yelled. "I'm trying to help you! Don't you care?" His voice was like an avalanche of fury, bottled and muffled by the glass containing it. He rubbed his hand against his sweating head, "What about Angela, here?"

Angela looked up, leaving me to gaze at her face from the side. That perfect skin, white, but not too white. I swallowed hard at the many thoughts that fueled inside of me, churning in it's acidic nature.

He was about to turn and leave when Angela spoke up.

"Dammit! Michael! Listen to him!" She was furious. I felt it, just as she felt me recoil on the inside. Instantly she became silent again. At first I thought I felt her start to give up, and that's when I stood.

"I do care." I said, walking over to the bars, and kneeling down. Angela met my gaze, and was surprised that I was smiling. My pale hand slipped through the bars, ever so slowly, and I caught her chin in my soft hands. I'd never felt like this before... and it was probably because of our conflicting emotions rising in my body.

She leaned forward, and pressed her soft lips against mine. I wanted more. God, how I wanted more! But for now, this was all I had.

Marcus walked over to Angela as we parted. "Do you mind if I have a word alone, darlin'?

Angela nodded and then left. I watched her with envy that I wasn't next too her. What was wrong with me... keeping myself from her was a sin in itself.

He waited til she was out of earshot to ask me. I saw he was fumbling with words, and I knew that only meant that he'd give up on nice and just ask me in his own way. "Do you want to finally give up this little pity party of yours and go back to her?"

"Yes."

"Then why all this..." He said motioning with his hands at my decor. "Why do this too yourself? It's not worth it, son."

The last word hit me with a sense of regret for even knowing my father. I'd brought this upon him when I first met him. This was destiny at it's cruelest. I hated myself. I should have never even tried to fight that werewolf the night of my attack. I should have just died. Regret crawled through me... and I became silent.

"No," He said, reaching through and shaking my shoulder. "Don't shut me out? Is it because of your father?"

I nodded, falling back on my butt and pulling my knees in close. Stability wasn't my strong suit... that much was becoming apparent.

"Michael... look at me. You aren't a killer. And I should know." I eyed him as he continued. Praying I wouldn't cry. "Every man in our family has his vices. I myself can't stand the injustice that our kind brings to others. You've seen how bloodthirsty we can be first hand! Dane..."

I growled a little in my throat.

"Sorry. My son, couldn't let things be. Constantly solving problems that he'd had no part in, just because. Him and that musician, always together, always trying to make the perfect existance possible for you, and everyone else that lived under that roof of his!"

It was strange hearing his take on the musician, like he was just some ruffian that my father used to hang around.

"And then I look at you. And your vice... which couldn't have come from anyone, _But_ my son, which was the fact that you couldn't stand to see someone die. Don't look at me like that. My son told me how you dove under him to save someone who tried to kill you not seconds before! I don't know anyone as selfless as that! And how you seem to take the problems of the world on your shoulders, barreling through just like the man we all are! I was impressed."

I looked up at him, smiling at his flattery.

Marcus waved at someone down the hall, and my cage slid open.

"Now why don't we reunite your little family and find you all a place too stay until your house is repaired."

"My house?" I asked, not knowing what he was talking about.

"That house has been passed down from father to son since the eighteen hundreds! It was the first shelter for our kind, ever built in the America's! I'd still be working it if I hadn't built this place!"

It was beginning to seem like every man in my family was hated by everyone... but once you got to know them... I wondered if I would be the same... I wondered if there were still people who were determined to hate me. Even with Seymour dead... there were people out there, like Emily, who would hate me... and there wasn't anything I could do about it...


	26. Thoughts

She held my hand as we strolled along the mansions edge, enjoying the sunlight. It was warming, even through the crisp, cold breeze that blew between us as we passed near the pavilion. Every time she shuddered, I pulled her closer to me. My protective nature had never been so involved with her before. I guess, I was just seeing things differently now. Either that, or it was the fact that everyone that we passed, eyed her slender beauty.

I knew that having unwillingly changed her, she would succumb to the increased metabolism. She burned calories like her body had become an inferno, melting every flaw away from her. Blemishes would never surface on her skin, sickness would never befall her, and her skin would always radiate it's beauty as a wild beacon. That last thing always had me on edge.

She'd always get the stares of the other male werewolves. And every time I noticed, she gripped my hand to keep me calm. "There's no contest between you and them." She would whisper as we continued our walk.

The men were all like me, built for their body types. Big men were muscly, small men were slender and quick. What ever our body deemed perfect, became reality, whether we liked it or not. At least they weren't. My body had already defined the woman who clung to me, as the neigh sayer. And being that neither of us could keep our thoughts too our selves, it made things much easier too deal with.

"Look at the kids!" Angela squealed. I hadn't noticed them at first. Children were always a hot topic for me, and I really didn't think of them as the little bundles of joy everyone played them out to be.

There were more than a dozen kids, mostly around ten years old, running around playing a very big game of tag. Until Angela squealed. They all seemed to stop. And that's when I saw it. All of their eyes were dark, and cobalt blue. I felt as though if the sun weren't up, their eyes would look like a bright-light set, off in the distance.

A sudden sickness threatened to me to turn her away from them. And when she heard me thinking about it, she turned he towards her. "They aren't monsters, Michael." She said under her breath. "They're just half-... us, and half-human."

I didn't buy it. "My eyes were green when I was a child." I said. Were... I didn't like the fact that because of our appetites, our eyes were permanently blue. Sure they looked gorgeous on her, but to me, that meant something else. I began to wish I didn't care what other people think.

"Michael," She said, sliding her hands up to my cheeks, "You're different. Marcus told me so."

Huh. Marcus. The second father figure in my life who I hated at first, then to my dismay found that I couldn't hate him if I tried. This trend had to stop before I lost my mind! "He says that trait is just because of your family."

I shrugged it off. "It's still creepy," I mumbled, smiling at her, then looking at the children, "Especially when they_ keep_ looking at us."

She hadn't even noticed. And her sudden realization that I was right made me laugh aloud. "Stop that!" She said hitting me in the chest. Her feigned anger. I loved her that way. "And I love you when you're not digging around in my head!"

"Hey, you got to toy with my thoughts all you want when I was normal."

"_We_, when we where normal." She said, pulling me along so we could walk some more. Her hand was warm in mine, even through the steadily dropping temperature.

"So," She said changing the subject. "When do you think my new house will be fixed?" She asked, that little tone that said, 'I won the lottery' was enough to make me shake my head. She was such a card...

"_Your_ house?"

"I think you owe me for the worry you put me through, Michael Chalk!" She argued. "You had me thinking you were a crazy person! I couldn't even hear your thoughts, there were so many jumbling around at once. Of Emily, her dad, images of that awful camp, every little picture had a slew of thought processes to choke down with it..." She trailed off. "It was scary..."

I frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Now don't you start taking the blame for something as terrible as what happened to your dad! That wasn't your fault!" She said. Her anger felt like it had been released into my hand that she carried. I'd wondered what it would do when it reached my brain. But it was a quick though, something I was glad she didn't catch.

"Okay." I falsely agreed.

"I know when you're just trying to make me feel better, Michael." She said, looking up at me with her smile. That beautiful, full smile. "I love it when you say I'm beautiful." She replied.

"So it's okay for you to constantly read my thoughts?" I argued with her.

"Of course. I'm the girl." She said in her cutesy voice. It was a mock cheerleader voice, and it always made me smile when she talked like that.

"You got that right." I said, taking advantage of her usage of the word 'girl.' Before the thought could be read, I looked her in the face, waiting for the pre-attack shock. And when it came, she gasped.

I ran away from her laughing.

"Michael Chalk, you better run!" She yelled as she sprinted for me.

I hadn't been running as fast as I should have. And that much became apparent when I looked back too see her within an arms length of me. I made some weird noise that seemed like a mix of surprise and fear. And as I went to turn back to the path I'd chosen to flee too, an inconvenient bench found my shins, and I went sailing forward.

Struggling to get back on my feet, I turned and backed away like a backwards crab. She jumped and landed on my stomach.

"Oof!"

"That's what you get!" She said.

My arms were pinned and she sat above my legs, so there was no getting out of this without hurting her. All I could do was laugh, and it seemed the same for her. As she relaxed and sat up on my stomach, she swiped her long, black hair away from her eyes. That shining coal black hair was like silk around her face. I was suddenly in awe by her. And she noticed. "You're so, unbelievably beautiful." I said.

She merely rolled her eyes and fell to my side. The both of us were staring up into the sky.

"Oh!" She said as a sharp thought seemed to spike it's way over too me. I jumped. "Have you noticed it yet?" She asked.

"I've been underground in a cell for the past two days." I said. "What was there too notice?"

She leant up and smiled. Putting her hands over my eyes, she forced me to ask what she was doing. "Just relax, and smell the air." She instructed.

I did. And the unimaginable scents that filled my senses... felt like perfection. The scents of our kind were separated when there was only a few of us. It was a great advantage when hunting. But here, where werewolves were no longer the minority, they were united. And together, it smelt like home.

Home. It was all I could think of when the smell of them all hit my nose. And it wasn't my physical home either... I felt like, I belonged here. There was no way to explain it at the time though. So when my thoughts started to jumble together, I was at a loss of words.

Every sense has it's climax. Hearing the most beautiful voice. Tasting the greatest foods. Looking out from the top of Mount Everest. The touch of someone you love. Then there was smell. This was it's climax. The serenity, was the most beautiful thing I'd ever taken it. And the whole time, I couldn't believe what I saw with my eyes closed.

"It's perfect here." I mumbled.

"Yeah." She mused in a slight daze. I was buzzing off the smell. Like a sweet coax into a docile euphoria.

We lay there next to each other, smiling, and taking in the scent like it was white wine. Until she spoke.

"I want kids one day."

"Not this again." I groaned. My eyes were still closed when she hit me in the ribs.

"Don't knock my dreams."

"Sorry." I said laughing.

"..."

"..."

"So... when do you wanna give me a few?"

I sat up a little bewildered. "A few?"

"Don't look at me like that. I just want a few. Like... five."

I had to double-take her. "Fi-Five?!" I was hoping around two, or three. Four was out of the question, and five would kill us both! I was sure my shock was what was making her laugh now, because it surely wasn't the smell in the air.

But when she slowly opened her eyes to look up at me, those big blues, I couldn't help but feel exactly what she felt. Completeness.

"I guess I can survive with five." I said, stroking the side of her naturally pale face. Then I thought for a second. "But I want too look at least twenty-something when we start."

The thought of what people would think when they saw someone like me toting around a few children a fourth of my age, didn't seem right. I knew if we started now, by the time they were five, I'd still look eighteen. And I wasn't ready for that. I don't think anyone in their right mind was. And that included my love.

She hit me again, and slyly got up and ran. I guess the tables were turned.


	27. Turn of Events

"I think everyone knows that I'm not a normal wolf." I told her as we laid together on the bed in our new suite. When we'd asked for a room, Marcus, bewildered, told us that would be unacceptable. 'How many times do I ever get too see my grandson and his lovely mate.' I started to think that it was me who was changing the men of my family. They'd always been hated, my father especially, until I came around. I guess it was just since I was in close proximity of them and their friends.

And yet. Here was different. Marcus always had eyes on him while he was out in the open. And he always, kind of scowled. I was a little shocked to see how he acted around normal... werewolves. He seemed to have a hierarchy deal going on around here. Children always left whatever room he walked into, and people stood at the scent of him. Which I found out a few hours after Angie and I finally came in from the fields. It was stronger, more distinguished. Like walking into a perfume department, mens ware of course.

"Yeah, I seemed to notice that as well." She said. I could see her memories of how people looked at me. Almost fearfully. Nothing like how they treated Marcus. The children that ran around here were almost always around the next corner, watching me when I was outside, or by the door to my suite. "You almost upstage your Grandad." She said.

I shrugged. I didn't want to think like that. Feeling that guilt wad up, as if I'd be trying to take over his title or something. It felt wrong to think about.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I was just saying, it is a little intrusive."

"Yeah." Then something hit me. And it was completely random. There was nothing in the room that reminded me of them, not even the situation I was in. Angela lay naked under the covers resting on me, twirling my shoulder length hair... there was nothing that really could have sparked this, but I asked anyway. "Where are Nick and Emily?"

"Definitely avoiding you." She said, making me feel bad. Well, I did try to choke her too death a few days ago, so this was too be expected. Though, I did sense that she hadn't meant it like that. Rather she meant to say it in a tone that meant she was angry at them for being so childish. Now _that _was harsh.

"Come on. I feel really bad about what I did." I wined too her, praying she'd get over this. She was still angry with Emily for the whole thing with her mom also, so that didn't help either. I really wish everybody would just get along.

"Don't we all."

******************************************************************************

I didn't know how to really go about addressing my grandfather in public. Call me childish if you want, but I was really at a loss when I saw him standing next to... Tony?

He looked good for a man who I'd crippled so many weeks ago. And as he talked to Marcus, waving his hand and laughing with my grandfather, I saw he was completely healed. No plague symptoms... no nothing. And for the second, that wasn't sadness that I couldn't inflict pain onto him like I'd wanted at the time... rather, it was a sense of curiosity that seemed to entrance me.

"Michael!" Marcus yelled over too us happily, "Come on over, bring Angela." As he turned back to Tony, I noticed that the man wasn't even phased by my being here. But still, Angela ushered me forward, to greet my once fallen enemy.

"Tony, Bernice." He said, motioning to the tall, strawberry blond woman clinging to his arm and smiling through what could only be explained as pain. It bothered me a little, but as I approached them, I smiled. "This is Michael, of course, and his mate Angela." His tone was very pleasing and sophisticated. Something I definitely wasn't used too.

"I remember you." Tony said. "It's better seeing you under less... exhilarating circumstances." His smile and slight British accent, were definitely a surprise. And even though, I'd tried too kill him, he held out his hand and shook mine like I'd been a long lost brother.

"Agreed." I almost stuttered. We all exchanged handshakes, and I noted that Bernice's hands were almost a little clammy. And her scent was doubled, and human. Something had been different about it though. I'd only remembered one other time where I'd ever smelt anything as... different. And that was almost three years ago. Our teacher was about to take leave to give birth too her two... children.

"If I'm not being too personal," I started, "I'd like too congratulate you too on the child." Something deep in the recesses of my mind told me to say it... hell it made me do it. I guess this formality was really getting too me.

And where I though I was being too personal, Bernice beamed. Her pearly whites shown through the room like diamonds. "Thank you." Tony was also to shake my hand again and offer his thanks.

Angela squeezed my hand, hard. And when I stared at her, she shot me that look of envy that I knew was waiting for my fearing eyes. "Not until we at least look twenty." I mumbled.

Tony and Marcus laughed. "I guess you can look forward to _great_-grandchildren after all, huh Marcus?" Tony bellowed, making Angela smile. He winked at her, as if to say he's got her back, and I seemed to lose an appetite I didn't even know I had.

"Thanks Tony." She said.

I thought fast of a deterrent to the argument that loomed between Angela and I.

"Oh yeah, Grandfather." I still felt odd saying it. It left me feeling as though I'd just hit someone with a Frisbee. Trial and error I suppose. "We were looking for Nick and Emily. Do you know where they might have gotten too?" These formalities were definitely getting to me.

"Tony, Bernice? Would you too excuse me for a second?" He asked them, a low tone escaped along with the request. They said they were honored by his company enough as it was, and left. The two seemed like intellectuals, yet with a gun in his hand, he looked like a goon from a movie about Al Capone!

"What's wrong?" I asked him before he started.

"Nick and Emily are going through... a tough time?" He said. He was holding a lot more than that back. I could see it in his reluctance.

"What kind of a tough time?" I asked, this time Angela seemed to let go of me, and cross her arms. I wasn't comfortable with having two of my human friends around a bunch of werewolves. Even if I was one myself. There was still that whole stalk and kill, thing looming around. Something the younger ones would love to practice.

"I gave them an offer that..." I instantly thought, _they couldn't refuse._ ", would ultimately make them... better suited for a friendship, such as yours." _I was close_. But when I read over what he'd said in my mind... I started too see the whole picture a little more clearly.

"Where are they?" I said, low and emotionless.


End file.
